


The Phantom's Summer

by northfox



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: F/M, Great Gatsby AU, erik/christine - Freeform, jammes/philippe, raoul/meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 19:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northfox/pseuds/northfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Phantom of the Opera/Great Gatsby AU.</p>
<p>Hopeful young actress Christine Daae came to New York in the midst of the Roaring 1920s to follow her dreams of stardom. When her mysterious, wealthy neighbor invites her to one of his famous masquerade balls, Christine gets pulled into a torrid romance for the ages. But be warned, not every story has a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The City of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my fic!  
> Enjoy, leave feedback, and hit me up on tumblr @eriksfavoritecape!

Christine Daaé could practically hear the applauding of her future fans, she was so close to her dream now that she was living in New York. Weeks of waiting, scouring the market, and making phone calls to sexist real estate salesmen finally paid off when the taxi let Christine off in front of her new home.

It was a cardboard box of a house at only eighty dollars a month. In actuality it was a forgotten groundskeeper's cottage nestled in between the lavish homes of the new-money millionaires. The cottage was located in West Egg, a city on Long Island.

Dark green vines dotted with purple flowers wound up the walls, covering the house almost completely. Sunlight dappled the mulch ground as it tried to sneak its way through the dense canopy of oak branches that blotted out the sky.

The taxi driver handed Christine her two suitcases from the trunk. "Have a nice day Miss." he said. Christine tipped her hat to him politely and he drove off down the dirt road. From her porch, Christine discovered that she had a wonderful view of the beach and the ocean beyond it. "Absolute perfection." She said to herself happily.

The cottage came furnished, and Christine marveled at the charms of the dusty old wicker chairs and the wrought iron tea tables that oozed simple luxury. The home had a very "teatime in a Paris garden" feel to it and much to her delight, Christine discovered that the cupboards were already stocked with all the china she would need. Beautiful white saucers, teacups, and dinner plates decorated with gorgeous prints of pink cherry blossoms filled the shelves and in a box marked "Fragile" on the counter, Christine found beautiful crystal cups and wine glasses. With a smile, she placed her new treasures safely away, putting the cups in a cupboard and hanging the wine glasses upside down from a rack.

In her bedroom, Christine placed her suitcases on top of her mattress. She stripped the dusty quilt and the pale yellow sheets from her new bed and replaced them with the familiar sheets and comforter she had brought from home. She carefully squeezed her many dresses into her closet and stacked her hatboxes up on the shelf. Looking around her bedroom, Christine noticed the yellow discoloration that was creeping up the walls from the floor molding, she pulled a notebook out from her purse and flipped to a fresh page. She began to write:

To do list:  
1\. Paint bedroom

Later that day, when the sun began to set, Christine flicked on the light switch in her living room. The dusty light bulb flickered a few times before glowing orange and bright. Christine spent the next several hours reading and when she felt her eyelids growing heavy, she closed her book and got ready for bed. As she started to drift off to sleep, loud music and shouting penetrated her dreams, jolting her back to consciousness. Throwing off her covers, Christine got out of bed and pulled aside the curtains from her window. She blinked in the harsh light that shone into her room. Her neighbor's house was flooded with light and music pulsated from its walls.

Christine grabbed her robe and slipped her arms into the sleeves, tying it around her waist. She stepped onto her porch barefoot and walked down the dirt road to the end of her property. Just as Christine stepped onto the gravel street to get a better look at the commotion, a car whizzed past, missing her by just a foot. She tumbled backwards and landed on her backside in the dirt.

"Great, just great." She grumbled.

The next morning Christine was up bright and early to attend a casting call in New York. A popular men's clothing company was looking for a model to pose with their spokesman for a magazine advertisement and Christine fit the bill. The nervous feeling in her stomach that morning kept her from eating breakfast. Digging through her extensive wardrobe, Christine put together a professional yet playful outfit, consisting of a royal blue dress over sheer tights, for her audition. She slipped on a pair of shiny, two and a half inch, t-strap heels and tied her whole ensemble together with a pair of white gloves. Christine pinned her long curly hair up to be about shoulder length. To match her outfit and protect her pale complexion, she put on a white sun hat decorated with a dark blue feather. As for makeup, Christine applied a bright red lipstick and some dark eye makeup.

Finally satisfied by her appearance, Christine picked up her phone, placed the receiver to her right ear, and held the transmitter a few inches from her mouth, "I'd like to order a cab to the city please." she said when the operator answered. "Give me your address and I'll send for one right away dear." the woman said. Fifteen minutes later Christine was in a cab on her way to New York City. "That's a lovely brooch you've got there ma'am." the cab driver said. Christine reached up to her chest to touch the brooch that she always wore, it was pinned onto the strap of her dress. "Thank you, it's a rose, I wear it for good luck."

"Yeah, I could use a bit of luck myself, maybe I should get a lucky charm." the driver said in a joking tone.

Christine knew that the cabbie saw her superstition as childish and unimportant but Christine wouldn't dare leave home without her rose. It was a gift from her father on his deathbed and it held more value to Christine than anything else in the universe.

When the cab pulled up outside the casting company's headquarters, Christine paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk, she pushed through the revolving door and into the lobby packed with young ladies. The smell of cigarettes filled the room and smoke curled up from the mouths of nervous girls. Christine waved at the air in front of her face to keep the smell away, she walked up to the reception desk to sign in. "Name?" a man asked from behind thick bottle cap glasses.

"Christine Daae."

The man peeled a sticker off of a large roll and handed it to Christine, the sticker had the number 36 printed on it. "Thank you." Christine said, placing the sticker on her chest.

All of the seats in the lobby were taken, girls milled about nervously and Christine decided that she'd be more comfortable waiting outside. A welcoming bench outside the building called her name.

As soon as she sat down Christine felt her arms and legs grow tired, last night hadn't provided much sleep thanks to her party-animal neighbor. Over the next hour girls trickled out through the revolving doors, some in tears, some holding call-back papers, and some stomping angrily. Glasses-man popped his head out the door, "Number 36?" he called. "Oh that's me!" Christine exclaimed, leaping up from the bench. She grabbed her purse and rushed inside.

Before entering the audition room, Christine stroked her brooch with her right index and pointer fingers, a sense of confidence sparked from the brooch into Christine's fingers and it spread through her body. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped through it into her future.

"Name, age, occupation."

"C-Christine Daae, twenty-two years old as of last week, and unemployed."

"Alright, let's see how you work with Donny."

Donny Grimm, the spokesman for Arrow Collars, stood up from his seat behind the producers' table and walked over to Christine. He struck his signature pose, thumbs in his front pockets, legs slightly parted, head turned to look up, and off into the distance. Christine was absolutely starstruck but she still managed to find it in her to do her job.

Slightly awkwardly, Christine placed her left hand on Donny's chest and put her right arm around his back, resting her hand on his shoulder. She looked up at him and produced a whimsical expression.

The producers seemed impressed. "I love what your're doing here Miss Daae, it's edgy, yet respectable." One of them said, and Christine's heart skipped a beat.

"Unfortunately, you don't fit the 'physical' image we had in mind." Another producer added.

"Thank you for your time." The third producer said kindly.

Christine nodded and left the room quietly, she felt tears forming in her eyes and she wiped them away aggressively.

Pushing past a group of girls, Christine walked into the bathroom and locked the door, she placed her bag on the sink angrily.

It tipped over and spilled.

A compact mirror, three sticks of gum, and a half empty pack of cigarettes landed on the floor. Christine bent down and picked up her gum and mirror, her hand shook and she hesitated to pick up the cigarettes. For almost a month Christine had been clean, she quit cold-turkey and it was going quiet well.

"To hell with it." she said furiously, she placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it, a tear rolled down her cheek.

When she was satisfied with her smoke, Christine took the cigarette out of her mouth, snuffed it out, and tossed it into the trash can.

She went to grab her purse and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her makeup was smudged and runny, flyaways stuck out from her hair in every direction.

Christine grasped both sides of the sink with her hands and used it as a support as she stared at herself. Tears began to flow once more, dragging dark eyeliner down her checks; her eyes and face were red and puffy.

"Christine," she said to her reflection softly. "you are enough, you are so enough, it is unbelievable how enough you are."


	2. My Dear Old Friend

One week after her unfortunate Arrow Collars audition, Christine's life had yet to look up. Her days were filled with frustrated pacing and her nights were filled with loud pulsing music from next door. To try to bring her mood up, Christine decided to take a trip to the beach. She pulled on her favorite bathing suit, it was red and the legs ended just halfway down her thighs, it was her most scandalous suit. She tied her hair back with a white ribbon and made a bow at the back of her head. Barefoot, she walked across her property and stepped onto the sandy beach.

With her back to the breezy ocean wind, Christine spread her towel out on the beach and laid down. From her large beach bag, she pulled out her favorite book, "This Side of Paradise". The book spoke to Christine deeply. Amory Blaine, the main character, reminded Christine of herself. Both her and Amory Blaine were sure that success was somewhere in their futures, but both were having trouble tapping into that dream.

"Christine! Christine!" Someone called from across the shore. Christine looked up in confusion, she hadn't made any friends on Long Island yet. A petite blonde was running across the beach kicking up sand and waving her arms. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! It's Christine Daae! Where in the world have you been hiding!?" The small woman shouted. Christine squinted to get a better look at her, then she realized who it was. "Oh my! Meg Giry, can it really be!?" Christine jumped up and raced to meet her friend in an embrace.

Back in British Columbia when she was a young ballet dancer, Christine's closest friend was Meg Giry. After Christine's father passed away when she was seventeen, Meg and her mother took Christine in and helped her save up to move to New York. Meg had moved away a year after Christine moved in, and she had heard that her friend had married a wealthy man in America.

"What are you doing here Meg?" Christine asked, happily.

"I live just a town over in the East Egg!" Meg exclaimed.

The two women hugged once more. "Where are you living?" Meg asked.

Christine pointed up the beach to her little cottage. "Just there."

Meg squealed in delight. "Christine it's so charming, it's so, you!"

Grabbing Christine by the wrist, Meg pulled her towards the cottage.

After an extensive tour of the small house and its grounds, Christine and Meg sat in the living room for some tea. Neither woman had bothered to change out of her swimsuit, Christine shivered. "Meg would you like a coat?" She asked, getting up to grab one for herself. "Oh no, I don't the mind cold one bit. It reminds me of home." Christine smiled at her friend's cheerful response.

"So tell me Christine, how are you liking New York so far?"

"It's very different from home, but people aren't as mean as I heard they'd be."

"What about Long Island, do you like it?"

"Everything about it is more wonderful than I could've hoped, it's like living in a postcard. There's only one drawback so far."

"What's that, Christine?"

"My neighbor, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night they throw these loud, offensive parties and I can't catch a wink of sleep!"

Meg stood up and peeked through the curtains covering the sliding glass door. "That neighbor there, in the castle?" She asked, pointing to the house to the left of Christine's cottage. "Yes, y'know I have half a mind to stomp down there and crash one of those parties, give them a piece of my mind." Christine grumbled. "Crash the party? That'd be quite difficult considering the parties in question are open invitation." Meg replied.

"Open invitation? You mean they allow complete strangers to get drunk in their home three nights a week with no regulation?"

Meg nodded and smiled. "I've been to my share of his parties, my husband isn't one for partying though so I attend with friends."

" _His_ parties? A man lives there?"

"Yes all alone, or so I've heard. Rumors about the mysterious host are always flying around Long Island. Some say he's an assassin, some say the banished brother of a Russian Zhar, I've even heard that he's a second cousin to the Devil himself!"

Christine scoffed. "He's probably just another new-money playboy content to drown himself in illegal booze and dishonest women."

"That's awful judgmental considering you've never met the man!" Meg cried. "Perhaps you should attend one of his parties, see what they're all about."

"I have no interest attending one of his lawless parties."

"They aren't completely lawless! There is one rule, everyone must wear a mask."

This strange fact embedded itself in Christine's mind, it was too odd to be ignored.

The old wooden clock on the mantel chimed four times. "Goodness! Four o'clock, I should head home." Meg exclaimed. She stood up and hung her purse on her shoulder. "Don't be a stranger, Christine. Stop by sometime, I'm in the phone book." Meg kissed both of Christine's cheeks then left.

For the rest of the evening Christine couldn't shake Meg's advice out of her head. At around nine o'clock the sounds of chatter and a band warming up flowed from her neighbor's home. "Oh live a little Christine!" She scolded herself.

Christine put on a knee length black dress with a skirt of hanging silver beads. She added sheer tights and black heels. Christine put her hair up in a twist, and a silver headband with dangling faux pearls on one side completed the ensemble. Not in the mood for time in front of the mirror, Christine applied a little bit of dark eye and lip makeup.

Grabbing a shiny black clutch on her way out of the house, Christine walked down the road towards her neighbor's glittering party castle. When she reached the ivy covered iron gates a well-dressed man opened them for her. "Your mask, Miss." He said, handing Christine a plastic mask. The mask covered her face from her hairline to the tip of her nose, it was covered in silver glitter, some of which rubbed off onto Christine's fingers. She put the mask on and wiped her fingers on her dress. Before walking into the huge castle, Christine stroked her brooch with the same two fingers she used every time.

The night was an overwhelming blur of jazz music, dancing, alcohol, and bright colors.

Christine woke up the next morning in a wicker armchair in her living room, still dressed in her party clothes. Her head was pounding and her mouth was dry. Stumbling, she made her way to the kitchen and filled a mug with sink water, she drank the whole thing in one go. The water helped her dry mouth and chapped lips, but Christine's head still swam. She changed into a plaid, cotton morning dress and went outside for fresh air. Using her feet she cleared some leaves off of her porch steps and sat down. The beach hadn't filled up with its usual Sunday morning crowd yet, so instead of the chatter of beach-goers, Christine heard the sounds of nature. Rustling leaves, blue jays, and the ocean waves provided a serene sense of place to Christine. Movement at the corner of her vision caught her attention and Christine turned her head to look at a window high in one of the towers of her neighbor's castle. The black curtain swished closed and a chill crept down Christine's spine. Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, she got up and went back inside.


	3. A Single Invitation

A few more casting calls flew by that week, out of three callbacks, Christine landed two jobs. A live model in a department store for an expensive gala and a job as a day-player in a local director's short film.

On Friday night Christine lay in her bed reading "This Side of Paradise". She had reached part two of the book where Amory was being shipped off to serve in World War I. Somebody knocked on Christine's door just as she was getting into the suspense of the book. She closed the book and kicked her covers off. On her way to the door, Christine grabbed a fireplace poker just in case her guest wasn't the most amiable visitor. She opened up her door slowly and peeked out to see a young man, no more than fifteen years old, dressed in proffesional servant's clothing. He held in his gloved hands a silver tray, on the tray there was an envelope. "Christine Daae?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm her."

The young man held the tray out to Christine and she picked up the envelope off of it. "Thank you." She said. The young man tipped his hat to her and turned to go. "Wait! Hang on a moment!" Christine exclaimed. She rushed back into her house and dug through her purse. When she returned to the doorway, Christine placed a quarter in the young man's hand. He pocketed it and smiled at Christine. "Many thanks Miss, have a nice night."

Back comfortably under her covers, Christine grabbed a letter opener and made a neat tear across the top of the envelope. She pulled a small postcard out of the envelope. It read:

_Miss Christine Daae,_

_It would be my distinct pleasure if you would attend one of my small masquerade parties next Saturday._

_Respectfully,_

_Erik Leroux_

"Erik Leroux." Christine whispered, the name rolled off of her tongue. Something about his name felt very right to her. Suddenly tired, Christine placed the invitation on her nightstand and clicked her lamp off, then she pulled the covers up to her face and fell asleep.

A shrill metalic ring woke Christine the next morning, it was the telephone. Christine tumbled out of bed and crawled over to the phone. "Hello?" She asked groggily.

"Christine Daae did you just wake up? Shame on you it's noon! I'm expecting you at my house for lunch in one hour, I'll send a car for you."

"Meg?"

"Yes it's Meg! Get all your eggs in one basket and get over here!" Meg shouted, then she hung up.

Christine hung up the reciever and flopped back onto the floor.

An hour later, as Meg predicted, Christine was pulling up to Meg's home in the hired car.

Meg lived across the bay from Christine, in the old-money town of East Egg. Her home was stately and gigantic, manicured greens stretched as far as the eye could see. A man holding a polo-mallet rode across the lawn on horseback, he used the mallet to drive a white ball through a goal post. "Can you pull over here please?" Christine asked.

"Master Meg requested-"

"Yes, I understand that, but I'd like to walk from here."

"That driveway is at least half a mile long, Miss."

"I'm aware."

"Alright then, it's your funeral."

The driver pulled over and let Christine out onto the road. She thanked him and closed the door. Fumbling with her purse, Christine produced her last cigarette. Ever since the unfortunate Arrow Collars audition, Christine had found herself smoking every time her nerves began to grow tense. She lit the cigarette and breathed in the smoke. Sweat dripped down her face and back in the intense summer sunlight. Twelve minutes of walking and at last she reached the grand front doors of Meg's home.

Christine banged a knocker shaped like the head of a griffon. The great door swung open and Meg grabbed Christine into a tight embrace. "Meg Giry your home is incredible!" Christine exclaimed when Meg let her go. "Actually," Meg said, blushing. "it's Meg de Chagney."

"I heard rumors of your marraige but I never knew they were true!" Christine cried happily.

A man's voice joined the conversation. "Indeed they are true Mademoiselle."

The voice's owner was a handsome man with sandy colored hair and a French accent. He extended a hand to Christine and she took it, he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it slowly. "Viscount Raoul de Chagney, Meg's husband." He said. The title of "Viscount" revealed to Christine where Meg's money came from. "Christine Daae." She said politely. "Your accent Sir, it's French. If I may, what brought you to America?"

Raoul smiled and gestured to the polo-mallet he had leaned against the wall when he entered the foyer. "Polo, lovely sport. Besides Meg here, it's my reason for for living." He wrapped his arm around Meg's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Their height difference was staggering, but cute in a way. "I'm off to the stable, darling. You ladies enjoy yourselves." Raoul said before leaving. On his way out, his eyes lingered on Christine a tad too long but Meg didn't notice.

"Meg I need some advice." Christine said once Raoul was gone. "Of course dear! Just give me a moment to check on lunch, I'll meet you in the sunroom." Meg scurried off in the direction of her home's gigantic kitchen where her sevants were preparing lunch. Christine walked into the sunroom, the walls were made completely of glass windows, all of which were open. The seabreeze blew long, whispy, white curtains all about the room and made it difficult to see. Through the jungle of curtains Christine could just make out the figure of a woman sitting on the far side of the room. "Goodness me! Please, someone handle these curtains!" Meg exclaimed, coming up behind Christine. Four men rushed into the room and gathered up the curtains in their arms, then they shut the windows. "Ah much better!"

The sitting woman offered a glance to Christine that said " _I really don't care to introduce myself to you"_ , but Meg didn't pick up on that and introduced her two friends anyway. "Christine, this is Sorelli, one of my dearest friends. Sorelli, this is Christine, the one I've told you so much about." Christine extended a hand down to the still seated Sorelli. Instead of taking Christine's hand, Sorelli stood up and stretched her back with a grunt. "Charmed." She said curtly. Slightly put off by Sorelli's behavior, Christine didn't reply.

"Madame, lunch is served." A servant said to Meg. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Lunch was a delicious vegetable soup with baguette.

"So Christine you said you needed my advice about something?" Meg asked between spoonfuls of soup.

"Oh, yes. You see I recieved a letter from my neighbor, Mr. Leroux and-"

Sorrelly interupted Christine suddenly. "Leroux? In West Egg?"

"Um yes, do know him?"

Sorelli began to laugh at Christine's ignorance. "Nobody has ever met Mister Leroux, but I've attended many of his glittering parties."

"What do you mean 'nobody has met him', he's not a ghost."

A bored look made it's way onto Sorelli's face. "Fair enough, but why would anyone want to meet him? I heard he killed a man once."

A servant collecting empty soup bowls, joined in. "Pardon me madames, but I heard that he kills for fun, free of charge."

Sorelli twirled a spoon around her fingers abesntly. "Well who cares, he's certainly richer than God, also he throws large parties and I like large parties, they're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy."

Meg ignored her friend's observations and focused on Christine instead. "What's so interesting about the letter Christine? What advice could I give you?"

"Well it's not actually a letter, it's more of an invitation really, to one of his weekend parties." Christine took the invitation out of her purse and passed it to Meg across the table. Sorelli reached out and intercepted the invitation before Meg could grab it. "Are you sure this is legitimate, not a joke? I've never heard of anyone getting 'invited' to one of Leroux's parties. All of New York simply shows up!"

Meg snatched the letter out of Sorelli's hands and read it to herself quietly.

"I'm sure Sorelli, it was delivered by a servant." Christine replied.

When Meg finished reading the letter, she placed it on the table in front of her. "It's written very respectfully, and you aren't seeing anyone right? I think you should go see what this man is all about."

"Find yourself a rich husband, good idea. It's best if they're old so they die quickly."

"Sorelli, hold your tognue! The rudeness out of you, goodness!"

Christine tuned Meg and Sorelli's bickering out and instead thought about Mister Leroux, she decided that she would take her friends' advice and attend the masquerade.


	4. Paper Faces

Saturday dragged on slowly, giving Christine more and more time to wonder about the party later. At nine o'clock she began to get herself ready.

She put on a beautiful, short, light salmon dress, embroidered with fake diamonds and silver beads. Sorelli's voice rang in Christine's head, goading her to dress flirtatiously and confidently, under this influence Christine decided not to wear tights. She slid her feet into pointy-toed, nude, t-strap pumps. In her jewelry box, Christine dug out something she had never had an opportunity to wear: a bronze ear-cuff that was connected to a headpiece by multiple small chains. She put on the ear jewelry after pinning her long hair so that it would stay draped over her right shoulder. Christine pulled open her nightstand drawer and picked up the mask that she had received last time she had visited Mr. Leroux's party castle. The silver glitter had scraped off, making the mask look dingy and cheap, but it was all Christine had.

Lightheadedness overtook Christine on her way across her lawn to the glittering castle. At the grand gates once more, Christine approached a servant and presented her invitation. "Excuse me sir, am I to do something with this invitation?" She asked. The man gave her a strange look and took the invitation from her to look at it. A look of realization passed over his face, "Wait here Lady." he said. He took her invitation with him into a guard booth and unlocked a safe deposit box, removing a dark purple satin bag from it. "For you." He said, presenting it to Christine. "Um, thank you." Christine said, taking the bag. She opened the drawstrings and gasped when she saw what was inside. A gold and silver, metal mask. It had a sweeping ornamental pattern. The mask fit Chrisitne's face perfectly and people turned to stare as she walked past them on her way into the castle.

The night moved on in a technicolor blur of Jazz, booze, and masked faces. Christine asked around, looking for Mr. Leroux to no avail. Slightly embarrassed, she had a drink, then another, then another. Halfway through her fourth glass, Christine bumped into a familiar face. "Christine?"

"Raoul? What are you doing here?"

Raoul smiled. "Same as you, I came for the show!" He said gesturing up at the trapeze artists swinging about the room above their heads.

In her search for Mr. Leroux, Christine hadn't even noticed the spectacle going on above her. "Goodness! I didn't even notice. Raoul, do you know where I can find Mr. Leroux?"

"Mr. Leroux, the host? Nobody's ever met him, they say he's a German spy."

"Right, I've heard that he's a lot of things."

Meg and Sorelli came up behind Raoul and greeted Christine. "Oh my Christine, your mask is just the bees' knees!" Meg exclaimed.

Christine touched her mask self-consciously. "Thank you, Meg. Would you two mind terribly if I steal Sorelli from you for a moment?"

Sorelli nodded her approval, as did Meg and Raoul. The couple walked away to dance, leaving their friends behind. "Sorelli, please I need help finding Mr. Leroux." Christine pleaded with the cynical woman.

"Sure thing doll."

"Wait, just like that? You can find him?"

"Of course I can! I've met him after all, shouldn't be hard to spot someone you already know."

"You've met?"

"Long story, follow me, I know two people who can help you."

Sorelli lead Christine through the party and up a flight of stairs into a tower. The tower was home to a multiple-level library. Two men stood in front of a bookshelf in a heated argument.

"Listen Andre, I know you looted my pile of books!"

"Horsefeathers! Firmin you flatter yourself, I have no interest in the dusty relics you find so entrancing."

Sorelli interrupted the men's debate. "Firmin, Andre, this is Christine, she's looking for Mr. Leroux."

Both men erupted in laughter. "Foolish girl, Mr. Leroux doesn't exist!" Firmin exclaimed.

"This house and everything inside of it is all part of an elaborate trick." Andre added.

"A trick? To whom is trying to trick?" Christine asked curiously. Sorelli rolled her eyes. "Don't get them started, Christine. I'm returning to the party, I leave you in their capable hands." With that, Sorelli departed from the library.

"Whom, you ask?" Andre said.

"That my dear, is _the_ question." Firmin added.

Quite sure that her companions were completely mad, Christine turned to leave the library.

"Careful, girl. This house and everything in it are part of an elaborate lie!" Firmin called at Christine, she ignored him and left.

The dance floor was packed with couples doing the foxtrot as "A Jazz History of the World" played loudly. Christine sat down at an abandoned table and fiddled with a lonely fork.

"Enjoying yourself Miss?" A man said.

Christine didn't look up but she replied. "I feel quite offended, I've had a cruel joke played on me tonight."

"Oh?" The man said quizzically.

"You see," Christine looked up at the man who was wearing a white half-mask and a tailored suit. "I received an actual invitation to this party, it would appear as if I'm the only one. Nobody has ever met this 'Mr. Leroux', they say he's second cousin to the Kaiser and third cousin to the Devil."

The orchestra began to shout about fireworks and Christine ignored them, a waiter whizzed by and her new friend grabbed a martini off of his tray. As the fireworks shot up and exploded in color and majesty, the man spoke.

"I suppose I haven't been a very good host, my dear, you see, I'm Mr. Leroux."

As he spoke he raised his martini glass to Christine, the firework extravaganza behind him framed his face and showered him with light as if he was some sort of divine being.

He smiled at her warmly, it was a special, rare smile. One that seemed to believe in Christine just as she wished she could believe in herself. She placed her hand on her chest and felt embarrassed sweat forming on her forehead, making her elaborate mask feel sticky and warm.

She apologized fretfully. "Oh I'm so sorry. I've had so much to drink and-"

Mr. Leroux cut Christine off with a smile. "Think nothing of it." He said, waving his hand. Christine noticed that on his right pinky he wore a beautiful emerald embedded into a gold ring, engraved on the emerald itself in gold lettering were the initials "E.L." in a crest, like the one on the invitation she received. Flabbergasted, Christine extended a hand to Mr. Leroux and he kissed it swiftly. "I'm so glad you could make it." He said. Christine still didn't know what to say. "Glad to be here. It's quite the party."

Mr. Leroux smiled proudly. "Thank you, do you like your mask?" He asked.

"Oh yes! I've never seen anything like it!" Christine exclaimed.

"Miss Daae, I have some business to attend to right now but I'd love to rendezvous with you sometime." Mr. Leroux said.

"I'd like that very much, Sir! When?"

"Whenever is best for you dear."

"That's awfully kind of you! How about Wednesday?"

Mr. Leroux kissed Christine's hand once more to say goodbye. "Wednesday then." Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Sorelli, holding a martini, came up behind Christine. "Told you." She said. "He's quite the charmer."

Christine nodded her agreement happily, she had taken a liking to Mr. Leroux. A sharply dressed servant approached Sorelli. "Ma'am, Mr. Leroux would like to speak with you, alone." He said. Sorelli looked surprised. "Me?" She repeated, gesturing to herself. The servant nodded. Sorelli looked at Christine , with a confused look. Christine shrugged her shoulders. Following the servant, Sorelli disappeared into the crowd in the same direction Mr. Leroux had gone.

Forty-five minutes later, the party began to die down and Christine made her way out of the party palace and down the front steps. Halfway down the steps she heard someone calling her name. "Christine! Christine stop walking!" Sorelli came barrelling down the steps towards Christine. "Sorelli, hello!" Christine exclaimed. "I just heard the most fascinating thing Christine!"

"What did you hear?"

"Oh I'm tantalizing you, but I can't tell!"

"Just tell me, Sorelli!"

"Oh, I swore! Christine, I swore I wouldn't tell!"

"Swore?"

"Yes, to Mr. Leroux, but my god it all makes sense now!"

"What makes sense?"

"Everything!"

Before Christine could ask for further explanation, Raoul came up behind Sorelli. "Let's go Sorelli! Traffic out of here is monstrous. Meg is already in the car."

"Oh coming!" Sorelli cried following Raoul.

Raoul was right, traffic out of Leroux's property was completely crazy. To lower the risk of getting hit by a car, Christine decided to wait until most everyone had cleared away before walking home. Meg, Christine, and Raoul's car whizzed by. Meg and Sorelli waved as they drove by. "Call us Christine! Don't be a stranger!" They shouted. Smiling, Christine waved goodbye to her friends.

"Sorry to keep her from you, my dear." Mr. Leroux said, sitting beside Christine on the steps. She noticed that he kept his mask on although most people, including her, had removed their's already. "No problem at all." She replied. "Don't forget about Wednesday." He reminded her. "Oh don't worry Mr. Leroux, I shan't forget."

"Erik."

"Pardon?"

"Please, call me Erik. That's my first name."

"Oh, it's a lovely name."

"Thank you."

The last few cars started their engines and sped out of the grand gates. Christine stood up and grabbed her clutch off the steps. "Goodnight, Erik." She said.

"Goodnight Miss Daae."


	5. The Grand Foyer

Christine spent Sunday at home doing nothing particularly interesting.

On Monday she painted her bedroom eggshell white.

On Tuesday she went to two auditions then met Meg, Raoul, and Sorelli for lunch in New York City.

Wednesday morning arrived at last and Christine's stomach was in knots. She was so excited to meet Erik again, but also very nervous.

Tuesday night Christine had laid out an appropriate outfit for the occasion, silver heeled sandals and a dress the color of an Orange Creamsicle. The dress had an attached shawl with ruffles around its base, a white ribbon dangled from the shawl and a pearly clasp tightened the dress at the top of the skirt, making Christine's waist appear to be very small. She applied her usual, and some would say signature, dark eye makeup. She ran a salmon colored lipstick over her lips then began work on her head of long curly hair. Christine decided to let her hair stay long and free today, but she pinned it strategically so that it stayed in place down her back.

Christine took a deep breath, then left her house. She headed down the road to Erik's castle. When she arrived at his grand gates she could see him speaking to the sharply dressed servant from the party. Erik made wild hand gestures and his brow was furrowed angrily, perhaps the most peculiar thing was that he still wore a mask. This mask was black and it covered the top of his forehead down to the tip of his nose leaving only his nostrils, mouth, chin, and jaw visible. "Erik!" Christine shouted from behind the gate. Erik's head whipped around to face the gate, he shooed the servant away then strode over to the gatekeeper's booth and let Christine in.

"Miss Daae, I'm glad you could make it! You look like a dream." Erik said.

Christine bowed her head slightly to keep Erik from seeing the blush that she could feel lighting up her face.

"Follow me." Erik said, taking Christine's hand. His hand was warm and he held Christine's hand firmly. He led her up the grand stairs and through the enormous doors into his castle. When they walked inside, Christine gasped and her jaw almost dropped to the immaculate marble floor. The only times she had ever seen the inside of Erik's home were at his parties when passed out college students and confetti littered the floors. With people milling all over the place it was impossible to drink in the beauty of where she was, but now she saw the home in all its glory.

Arching stone walls, a mural of heaven on the ceiling, two marble staircases, a gigantic organ who's pipes wound up the walls.

A huge piece of art carved into the marble floor drew Christine's eye, it was Erik's initials again. Perhaps the most astounding thing in the entire foyer was the larger-than-life, glistening, crystal chandelier. It hung from golden chains and provided all the light the room needed. Erik noticed Christine staring up at his chandelier and he smiled proudly. "All real crystal and gold, and it runs on electricty." He said.

Christine pulled her hand free from Erik's grip and walked over to stand in the middle of Erik's crest on the floor. Directly above her was the chandelier and she looked straight up at it in wonder. Leaning against the wall, Erik observed her. He marveled at the pure, raw fascination that bursted from her about every object. Christine stretched her arms out and threw her head back in laughter. She spun around beneath the painting of Heaven in pure bliss. While Christine danced around, Erik's sharply dressed servant approached him from behind. "Mr. Leroux, phone call. It's Gerard on the line, urgent news about Chicago, I believe."

Erik ignored his servant's message and instead waved him over to his side. "Daroga come here, look at her." Erik motioned to Christine when Daroga stood next to him. "Doesn't she make it all look so beautiful? It's as if this house was a grand puzzle and she's the missing piece."

"I'll tell Gerard to call back later." Daroga said, then he bowed out of the foyer.

"Erik!" Christine shouted. Erik looked over to see her standing in front of the organ. "Yes, Christine?"

"Can anyone play this thing?"

Erik cracked his knuckles and climbed one of the marble staircases to join Christine by the organ. "I can."

He sat down on the wooden bench and took a deep breath. Christine placed her hands on his shoulders, causing his back muscles to tighten and tense up. Erik played a song he had written many years ago as a boy. It was full of ups and downs, like a Coney Island roller coaster of song. He liked to think of this song as his prize achievement, it was certainly his most defining composition. Daroga once said that it "defined Erik's personality to a tee".

Christine watched Erik's fingers flutter over keys on the organ. Some he pressed down hard on and some he tapped delicately, every movement was calculated and perfectly timed. The music from the organ was hauntingly beautiful, gothic undertones highlighted the flitting notes. The composition was perfection. When Erik finished, Christine clapped and cheered for him. "That song was beautiful! What is it called, I've never heard of it before."

Erik closed the cover over the keys of his organ and stood up. "It doesn't have a name, I wrote it."

"You compose music? Good grief, you're a jack of many trades, Mr. Leroux!"

"Shall we head down to my dock now to fly in the hydroplane?"

"Oh yes, let's go!"


	6. An Afternoon of Adventure

In front of Erik's property, on the beachfront, stretched a long wooden dock lined with street lamps. Barnacles crusted the support beams and salty wind blew Erik and Christine's hair around.

At the end of the dock a beautiful hydroplane floated and bobbed up and down on the water. Christine's heart pounded wildly in her chest, she had never flown before, much less with someone she hardly knew as the pilot.

Built into the railings of the dock was a metal lock box, Erik unlocked it and pulled out two pairs of flight goggles. One pair was made of brown leather, like steampunk goggles. He tossed that pair to Christine and she put them on, fastening them securely on her face. Erik's goggles were attached to a brown leather flight helmet with a white, wool lining.

In one swift motion, Erik removed his black mask and replaced it with his flight gear while Christine was looking away. The goggles-mask combination covered his face just as well as the mask had. "Ready?" Erik asked, taking Christine's hands in his own. She nodded vigorously. Erik placed his hand low on Christine's back and led her to end of the dock, he steadied her as she stepped off the dock into the the co-pilot's seat of the hydroplane. When Christine was seated Erik leaped off the dock into his own seat.

"Are you ready?" Erik asked.

Christine felt her stomach churning, but she offered a weak nod. Sensing her unease, Erik placed his hand on Christine's and squeezed reassuringly, then he started up the engine and closed his eyes, enjoying the roar of the great mechanical beast. Anything and everything modern and mechanical delighted Erik and he loved having any innovations he could get his hands on. Christine's face was sheet white as she watched Erik flip switches and yank pull-cords.

The hydroplane lurched forward and skimmed across the water. Beach goers on the shore pointed in awe as they sped by. Erik grabbed a lever and pulled it down, the large wings angled upwards and the hydroplane lifted off the water. It ascended higher and higher into the sky until the beach and its visitors looked like ants. Christine craned her neck to see down below the hydroplane. Specks moved around on the sand, people. A bird whizzed past Christine's head, cawing angrily at her for invading its sky. Her hair flew behind her, waving madly in the wind. She let out a laugh of pure joy. Never before had she experienced something so exhilarating as this. Every few moments Erik would look away from his controls and steal a glance at his passenger. Any fear he might've had about her not enjoying herself melted away. When she laughed his heart would stop in respect for her beauty and when she pointed at things, calling for him to look, he would admire the treasures she discovered.

Slowly, the hydroplane began its descent back into the water. When the skis hit the waves, Christine's body bounced up in her seat. Erik steered the vessel back to his dock and climbed out. First, he moored his hydroplane, then he offered a hand to Christine, pulling her out of her seat and onto the dock. Christine pulled her goggles off of her face and untangled them from her windblown hair. When she looked up to hand Erik her goggles, she noticed that he had already removed his flight helmet and goggles, and once again wore the black mask from earlier that day. "Erik, may I ask you a question?" Christine said nervously. As he locked the gear back in the metal box, Erik replied without looking up. "Of course."

"Even if it's a personal question?"

"We're all friends here, isn't that right?"

"Okay, why are you wearing, um, a mask?"

Christine could see Erik's body tense up, his slender figure stiffened and his shoulder muscles grew taut. A sea breeze caused Christine to shiver and Erik slid off his brown bomber jacket, offering it to her. The jacket's soft wool lining insulated Christine from the breeze, on the jacket's right shoulder and chest there were two faded patches. "What are these?" Christine inquired, forgetting her previous question. Erik examined the two patches before replying: "Patches from my days in the army."

"You fought in a war?"

"Yes I was in the army during World War I."

"Really?"

"Major Erik Leroux, seventh infantry."

"I didn't have you pinned as the soldier-type."

"Oh Miss Daae you'll come to find out, I'm full of surprises."

Erik walked Christine up the dock and to his iron gates. Streaks of purple and orange dashed across the sky, sunset was coming. "It's getting late Erik. I should be heading home."

Erik seemed to deflate a little bit after hearing Christine's words but he respected her wishes and walked her home like a gentleman. On her porch with Erik, Christine began to shrug off the bomber jacket to return it. Erik put up a hand to stop Christine. "Keep it for awhile, it'll give you an excuse to come and visit me."

Christine smiled and pulled the jacket back on. "I might have to take you up on that, kind sir." She said with a laugh. Erik leaned forward and kissed Christine's cheek softly, then without a word he retreated into the inky, new-fallen night.

Speechless, Christine watched Erik retreat into the darkness. She could still feel his gaze on her even though he was gone.

Christine unlocked her front door and walked inside her humble little home. She unbuckled her shoes and placed them comfortably in the shoe cubbies in her closet, then she took off her dress and changed into her pajamas and white robe. When she laid down in bed, Christine planned on reading some more of "This Side of Paradise" but instead exhaustion struck her and she passed out with the book on her chest and the bedside lamp still on.

The next morning's sunlight seeped into Christine's bedroom and shone through her closed eyelids, waking her up. Christine sat up in bed and stretched, her book tumbled to the floor. From her bed, Christine read the calendar hanging up across the room, she had an audition today at five o'clock. With a yawn she got out of bed and prepared herself for the long day ahead.


	7. The Barbershop and What it Hides

Two weeks passed since the hydroplane ride; Christine hadn't seen Erik since that night on her porch, his jacket was collecting dust, draped over a chair in her dining room. A few times Christine considered returning it, but every time she just ended up not doing anything.

Friday morning Christine planned on sleeping in. The night before, she tucked her alarm clock away so it wouldn't disturb her in the morning. Christine woke up early, despite her best efforts, due to a loud rattling sound. She jumped out of bed in a panic and yanked her robe on. She rushed into the kitchen where the rattling was coming from and saw the dishes in her sink bouncing and shaking. The wine glasses clanked together on their rack and cabinet doors swung open and closed. A large black shape darted passed the kitchen window with a roar. Christine ran into the living room and watched it dart past the sliding glass door. It was a car. She wrapped her robe around her waist and tied it up before stepping outside onto her porch. The car, a Duesenberg Model J, sped into the mulch driveway in front of Christine's cottage. Erik Leroux stopped the roaring engine and opened up the car door. He was dressed exquisitely in dark brown corduroy pants held up by a light brown leather belt with a gold buckle. Erik wore a white long sleeved, button-up collard shirt with a wine colored tie. A pearl tie pin, shiny black wing tipped dress shoes, a brown newsboy cap, and a tan vest with entrancing tribal-like patterns stitched into it completed his look.

Curiously though, he wore a mask. This mask was white and covered the right side of his face at an angle. It covered his right cheek and angled upwards to his nose. His lips, chin, and philtrum were visible. The half-mask worn by Erik at the party was different in that it covered half of his nose and philtrum, this new mask left the philtrum exposed but covered his entire nose. Another difference between the two half-masks was that the old one covered half of Erik's forehead then rounded off while this one covered his entire forehead with a wing shape that left his left eyebrow visible.

"Get dressed Christine! We're going to lunch!" Erik exclaimed. Christine was still processing all that was going on as Erik leaned into his car and grabbed a gentleman's cane with a ruby skull embellishing the top. He spun the cane around with one hand like a baton and tapped the hood of his car with it. "She's pretty isn't she? All a custom job with a supercharged engine."

Erik's car was more than pretty, it was astounding. White wall tires glistened, wet from the morning dew on the grass. The car was mostly black, with silver accents. The interior, front, and sides of the car were red. Erik stepped onto the porch and kissed Christine's cheek. "Hurry up now, Darling." He whispered. Christine smiled and went back inside, leaving Erik on the porch to admire his car.

Wanting to dress to impress, Christine decided to wear a dress that she was saving for a special occasion. It was still in its garment bag from the store back home in Canada. The dress was a parting gift from Meg's mother and was the most expensive thing Christine owned. It was lavender and went down just past her knees. Silver and white beads and rhinestones adorned the dress along with black stitching patterns across the straps and making triangular patterns on the stomach area. Orange and pale purple flower patterns were stitched into the triangles; silver beaded strings dangled down from the hips and swished when Christine moved her legs. Christine chose understated accessories to compliment the dress' elaborate design, white t-strap Mary Janes, and small white beaded purse with a thin bronze chain for a strap.

Christine heard her front door creak open as she did her makeup in the bathroom. Erik knocked on the door. "Come in!" Christine shouted. The door opened and Erik came in, he took in the beauty before him with a smile and a deep breath. "You look like a vision, Christine." He said. Christine blushed and thanked him. "What are you going to do with your hair?" Erik asked suddenly. Christine furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "Pardon?" she asked.

"I mean, I think it'd look very pretty like this." Erik placed his cane on the counter and took Christine's long hair in his hands, gathering it all behind her back. "Hand me a brush please." Christine opened up a drawer and passed a brush over her shoulder to Erik. He brushed her hair and watched as her curls bounced up after the brush swept over them. Erik leaned forward and scooped a handful of bobby-pins out of a tray on the counter. He pinned Christine's hair back first, then holding the last few pins in his teeth, Erik twisted Christine's hair into an updo and pinned it into place. Christine watched her reflection in the mirror as Erik did her hair. When he was satisfied with his work, Erik grabbed Christine's shoulders and turned her around to face him. With one finger he pulled some hair out of Christine's updo and watched the curl fall down to frame the right side of her face. "One more thing." Erik said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled a satin bag out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a stunning diamond headpiece. He fastened it on the right side of Christine's head and brushed some hair away so that the jewelry was fully visible. The headpiece was lined with almost one hundred small diamonds and it resembled a long leaf. It wrapped around the right side of Christine's head, from her hairline to her ear where it swooped down.

"Oh, Erik." She said breathlessly, touching the diamonds.

"All real diamonds, I had it made for you. It looks more beautiful on you than I could have imagined."

Christine turned around to face Erik and wrapped him in an enormous hug, resting her head on his chest. "Thank you so much, I love it."

When Christine embraced Erik his entire body flooded with her warmth. As he wrapped his arms around her, he felt his hands shaking violently. He rested his chin on top of Christine's head and held her, when Christine pulled away he took her hands in his and led her out of the house.

Erik opened the passenger side door for Christine and helped her into the car before walking around and getting in himself. He started the engine and laughed when Christine jumped up in shock at the car's loud sudden roar. "She's loud isn't she?" He shouted over the engine. Christine plugged her ears and nodded. The car shot out of Christine's driveway, the engine sounds grew softer as the car zipped down the dirt road. People waved to Erik as they drove by, a truck full of young men on their way to work shouted Erik's name and he grabbed his hat off his head and waved it to them as he passed.

Christine's stomach churned as Erik weaved and sped through traffic. Patience was not a virtue that Erik possessed, he'd much rather jerk the car around through traffic than wait for the roads to clear up. On a long empty road, Erik slowed the car down and looked over at Christine, he tapped his fingers on his right knee rhythmically. "Oh, well." He said, looking over at Christine with a smile. "I was, um, I was wondering, what is your opinion of me, Christine?" He asked.

"My opinion?"

"Yes yes! Your opinion, I can't imagine all of the strange accusations you've probably heard, a pack of lies, I guarantee it!"

"Oh no doubt."

"I just want you to know about my life Christine. I don't want you to think of me as some, some, _nobody_. You see I'm the son of a very wealthy family from the west, sadly they're all dead now. I traveled the world for some time, making art. I built masterpieces in Persia and wrote screenplays in France. I had many great hobbies: painting, singing, playing instruments, and whatnot. Collecting jewels, chiefly rubies, was my passion for sometime as well."

Erik took a break in his story to focus on the, once again, busy road. When Christine thought that Erik's life story couldn't get any more fantastic, he became a war hero! He claimed to have single handedly defeated an entire German armada!

The car took a sharp left turn off the scenic country road and onto a gravel street. The blue sky and ocean-scented air melted away and were replaced by an ashen gray sky plagued by smog clouds and thick smokey air. This new environment was none other than " _The Valley of Ashes"_.

The Valley of Ashes was a grotesque place, nestled between The West Egg and New York City. It was a dumping ground for the waste left over by industrialization. The men and women who lived there moved through life, crumbling, like the buildings around them. Little boys and mangy dogs frolicked together through hills of choking ashes.

"Then after the war," Erik continued. "I received multiple honors from every allied country. Even little Montenegro!" The car pulled to a stop at a railroad crossing and as a train passed by Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold medal attached to a purple strip of fabric. He handed the medal to Christine and read it aloud without looking at it. " 'Major Erik Leroux, Valor Extraordinaire'. That's from Montenegro, I always carry it with me."

Christine handed the medal back to Erik and he placed a photograph in her hand. "What's this?" Christine asked.

"Another thing I always carry with me, a souvenir of my Oxford University days."

The picture was of a group of twelve young men. Standing towards the back with his hands in his pockets was Erik, wearing a mask.

"See that man on my right, in the picture?"

"Yes."

"He's now America's ambassador to England."

"Wow, you have friends in high places don't you?"

"Indeed I do. Good when you need to call in a favor, bad when you want to have a small get together."

Eventually the train passed and Erik and Christine drove over the Queensboro bridge.

In the city at last, Erik drove recklessly and fast. A police officer on a motorbike revved his engine to life and pursued the black and ride car. "Pull over! Pull over!" He shouted. The police officer was now beside the car on Christine's side. Erik grabbed a business card that was clipped to his windshield and leaned over Christine's lap to show it to the cop. "Alright, Old Sport."

The officer read the card and a look of realization passed over his face. "My apologies Mr. Leroux! I'll know you later!" With that, the officer eased off his gas and the car left him behind.

"What was that? A buddy of yours?" Christine asked.

"Never seen that gentleman in my life. A few years back I did the Commissioner of Police a favor, he even sends me a Christmas card every year."

Christine couldn't believe the man beside her. Erik Leroux had all of New York wrapped around his pinky finger just above his emerald ring. If Erik wanted a skyscraper built in the middle of central park, Christine had no doubt that he could get it done.

Erik parallel parked in front of a barber shop and walked around the car to let Christine out. "'I've got it, I have arms!" She said, waving him away playfully and letting herself out of the car. "Oh hang on!" She exclaimed. Christine reached back into the car and pulled Erik's jacket out from beneath the red leather passenger seat. She handed Erik his jacket and he put it on. "Thank you Madame." He said with a bow. Christine laughed and swatted his shoulder before looking at the spinning red and white barber's pole. "A barber shop? Do you need some grooming before lunch, Erik?"

Erik ignored Christine's question and she followed him into the shop. A grumpy looking man was one of three customers at the time. Erik came up behind him and slapped his hands on the man's shoulders. A smile spread across the man's face and he looked up at Erik. "Erik! My boy!" He exclaimed. The man stood up and wrapped Erik up in a hug. "Armand, Armand, Armand." Erik said patting the man's back.

When Armand let Erik go, he looked past Erik's shoulder and winked at Christine standing a few feet behind. "Who's this?" He exclaimed. Erik reached a hand out behind him and Christine took it. He pulled Christine to his side. "Christine there's someone I'd like you to meet, this is Mr. Armand Moncharmin. He's a business associate of mine."

Christine shook hands with Moncharmin and smiled at him. "It's a pleasure." She said.

"No, no, the pleasure is all mine Mademoiselle!"

Erik intervened and spoke: "To lunch?" Then he led Christine, with Moncharmin following behind them, to a sign on the wall. With his cane, Erik tapped on the wall three times and the sign slid away to reveal a man's face. The man looked Erik up and down before nodding and returning the sign to its place, then the wall slid open revealing a dark stairway. Erik stepped aside and gestured for Christine to go in first. "After you my dear."

Slowly, Christine walked down the stairs. Suddenly a blast of jazz music hit Christine's ears. "A speakeasy!" She cried, looking down the stairs at a brick room filled with people. There was too much going on to process. Flappers, roulette tables, bars, a dining area, card tables, name it and it was there. "Mr. Leroux! Highballs?" Shouted a bartender when he caught sight of Erik coming down the stairs. "Highballs it is! Take care of my friends here!"

Moncharmin herded Erik and Christine to a table at the center of the room. It had a perfect view of the flappers on the stage and a straight beeline to the exit, if the need arose. "Christine come with me, to meet someone." Erik said after they claimed their table. Christine followed Erik around the speakeasy as he introduced her to his friends. Erik grabbed the fist of a young man and slapped his back. "See these fists, Christine? He's the next heavyweight champ!" The man laughed off Erik's compliment. From across the room a drunken man shouted Erik's name and shot at him with finger guns. "Bang! Bang! You're under arrest Erik!" The man's words were slurred.

"Take care of yourself! You're becoming quite the jazz-hound Commissioner!" Erik shouted back.

When they returned to the table, Moncharmin was occupied with a flapper girl who was tracing a feather down the side of his face. Erik cleared his throat loudly when they sat and an embarrassed Moncharmin shooed the girl away. A waiter came by and placed a plate in front of each of them. Christine looked at her meal curiously. "I'm afraid they've brought my regular, instead of taking our orders. It's lobster decorated with truffles and fine herbs." Erik said. Christine was shocked, she never expected so posh a meal from a speakeasy. "It's fine Erik, it sounds delicious." Christine said.

A man tapped discretely on Erik's shoulder then quickly walked away.

"If you'll excuse me. Moncharmin, my dear old friend, I have to go make _that call_." Erik said. He took his napkin off of his lap and placed it on the table, then he stood up and vanished into the crowd.


	8. The Barbershop and What it Hides Pt. 2

Alone with Moncharmin, Christine tried to alleviate some of the awkwardness by engaging him in conversation. "The architecture down here is astounding." She said, looking up at the columns and arches decorated with beautiful murals. "So how did you come to know our Mr. Leroux?" Moncharmin asked.

Christine was shocked by the change of subject but she was glad to have something to talk about. "We met at one of his parties a few weeks ago."

"Miss Christine that's a beautiful brooch you've got there." Moncharmin said, eyeing Christine's rose brooch.

"Thank you, and your tie pin, is quite, exotic." Christine replied.

Moncharmin's tie pin was a human molar with a silver pin stuck through its center. It made Christine quite uncomfortable.

"I've known Erik for a very long time, ever since he first graduated Oxford. You know about Oxford, I presume?"

"Yes I've heard of it."

"He's a good boy, the son of some wealthy people from the west, sadly all dead now. His classiness is unparalleled; a war hero, businessman, and all around gentleman."

A few moments of silence passed awkwardly before Moncharmin spoke again. "He's a delicate soul, our Erik. Are you two an item?"

Christine blushed. "Oh, no! Just friends, that's all." She exclaimed. Moncharmin snorted. "Be good to him Christine. Erik doesn't quite understand a lot of what we know as 'civilized', he tries, he really does, but the man has a past that will haunt him forever." Christine wondered if Moncharmin was referring to some kind of war trauma, from what she heard Erik's life seemed privileged besides that.

"Where are you working Christine?"

"I'm unemployed, but I'd like to be an actress."

"Do you sing?"

"I used to sing, with my father at shows around Canada."

"Tell me my dear, are you interested in making a _business connection_?"

"Pardon?"

"You see, Erik and I have-"

Erik interrupted Moncharmin's sentence by returning from his phone call and sitting back down. "What did I miss?" He asked. Christine replied: "Nothing much, we were discussing the singing business."

"Oh, the singing business you say?" Erik seemed worried.

Moncharmin stood up. "Well kids, I'm off. I'll leave you to discuss your celebrities and films." Christine waved goodbye to Moncharmin.

"The singing business?" Erik asked again like a broken record.

"Who is that man anyhow? An actor?"

"Moncharmin? No! He's a business man, my dear! Some call him an opportunist."

"What does that imply?"

"He sees an opportunity and takes it. He's the man who fixed the 1919 World Series!"

"Fixed it?"

"Yes, _fixed it_."

"Well how'd he manage that?"

"I told you, he sees opportunities. Christine I'm going to make a big request of you later today."

"A request? What is it?"

"Not now, Sorelli will explain when you meet her later."

"What does Sorelli have to do with it?"

"Worry not Christine, you'll understand later."

After lunch Erik drove Christine home and left. That evening Sorelli arrived at Christine's cottage for tea, she brought Meg with her. "Sorelli! Meg, what a pleasant surprise!"

Meg hugged Christine tightly then pulled back to give her a quick look up and down. "Christine Daae, you look fabulous! I'd kill for your fashion sense."

Christine wore a dull-orange tea dress with a flower embellishing the waistline and white embroidery decorating the hemline and sleeves, along with the dress she wore black satin heels with a pom-pom bow on the toe and a strap that closed with a brass button.

"Meg you flatter me! I've had this outfit for years." Christine exclaimed bashfully.

Sorelli pushed passed Meg and through the door, "Here." she said, putting her hat in Christine's hands. "Nice to see you too, Sorelli." Christine said as she hung her hat on the wooden hatstand.

Meg and Sorelli helped Christine prepare tea in her kitchen then the three women took their cups, saucers, plates, and finger foods outside to Christine's back porch.

They sipped their tea in silence for awhile, admiring the views. "So... how's Mr. Leroux?" Meg asked slowly. Sorelli stifled a giggle and both her and Meg stared at Christine. "He's fine, I'll tell him you asked."

"Oh come on now Christine!" Sorelli cried, banging her hands on the small tea table causing it to rock dangerously. "You and Mr. Leroux have been spending time together for weeks! As your best friends, it's our right to know all the juicy details of your times!"

Christine huffed but smiled. "Alright alright, gather 'round girls, it's story time."

Christine told Meg and Sorelli mostly everything. She told them about the hydroplane, the jacket, the hairpiece, the foyer, the party, the organ, the music, the car, Oxford, the war, lunch at the speakeasy, and the police officer. Select things she left out though; things like Moncharmin, the mysterious phone call at lunch, the argument with the servant, and the kiss on Christine's cheek. "Can I get your opinion on something girls?" Christine asked.

"Of course, Christine." Meg said.

"It depends." Sorelli added.

"Well, I've notice something strange about Erik and every time I mention it or start to mention it he changes the subject."

Meg grasped Christine's hand in support. "What is it, dear?"

"Erik wears a mask, all the time. I've never actually seen his face. I'd like to _be_ with him, but I don't even know what he looks like!"

Sorelli looked skeptical as she listened to Christine. "All the time? You've never, ever, seen him without a mask? Not even on the hydroplane?"

"It's true Sorelli, I swear on the bible! On the hydroplane he wore goggles and a flight helmet that covered most of his face. He has many different masks as well! Half masks, black masks, white masks, you name it! It's all very peculiar!"

Christine looked to her friends for advice and was met with one concerned face and one challenging one.

"Perhaps he's a criminal, Christine. A man on the run who's hiding his face." Meg suggested.

"No, no, not possible. One of Erik's closest friends is the Commissioner of Police."

Now it was Sorelli's turn to offer an idea.

"Just tear the mask off."

"Tear it off?" Christine asked.

"Sure, why not?" Sorelli replied.

"Maybe he's been terribly burned in a fire and has a grotesque scar?" Meg asked to no one in particular.

Sorelli raised her cup in agreement with Meg's speculation. For the first time, her friends actually agreed on an idea so Christine decided it was worth a shot.

"Okay, I'll take his mask off."


	9. A Matinee with Raoul

On her way out of Christine's house after tea, Sorelli remembered something she was supposed to tell her friend. "Meg wait for me in the car. I need to talk to Christine for a moment." She said.

Meg nodded and went outside. Sorelli took Christine by the wrist and walked her into the living room where she sat her down on the couch. "That night, when you met Erik, you remember when I spoke with him privately?" She asked. Christine nodded. "Well he told me that he's in a _controversial_ sort of business. He and another man manage flapper girls, and Erik needs your help. He needs someone to deliver something secretly to Walter Chase, a powerful stock broker. Erik wants you to pose as a flapper in his show next Sunday and deliver the item to Chase, who'll be in attendance."

Christine took a moment to process all that Sorelli had said. "So... smuggling?" She asked. Sorelli shrugged. "Of sorts. Think it through and talk to Erik." She replied before leaving. Christine sat on the couch and stared at the clock on her mantel. It ticked loudly, each stroke seemed to grip Christine's soul and squeeze it. Tighter, and tighter, and tighter. She felt her entire body tensing and got the sensation in her stomach that most people associate with butterflies. _Erik wants me to smuggle a package to a stock broker._

Christine replayed what Sorelli said over and over, she picked each sentence apart in her mind like a science student dissecting a dead cat or frog.

That night, Christine didn't get much sleep and she was woken up early the next morning by her ringing phone. Christine shuffled across her wood floor over to the phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"Christine? It's Raoul, Meg's husband. We were wondering if you'd like to join us this afternoon, we're heading into town for a matinee."

"Oh sure that'd be nice, I could use some leisure time to be perfectly honest. I'll be at your house at around twelve thirty."

"Wonderful, we'll see you then!"

Christine heard Raoul hang up and she placed her phone back on the table. With a sigh Christine glanced at her alarm clock, which read 10:45, and began to get ready. She slipped on a shiny silver dress that angled down towards her left ankle. It had long loose sleeves and a gray floral, vine-like, pattern decorating it. She also slid on a pair of pearly-colored wedding shoes and tied them tightly with the matching ribbon. Deciding that she was in no mood to wrestle with her unruly hair, Christine decided to let it stay long and free today.

Walking hastily to make good timing, Christine left home and headed down to the busy road by the beach where she hailed a cab. "Take me to East Egg please." Christine said.

"Sure thing sweetheart!"

For some reason, Christine's stomach churned. Perhaps it was because of what Sorelli had said the night before.

Grabbing the handle on the car door, Christine rolled the window down and lit a cigarette. She puffed on it absently, staring at the scenery as it flew by.

When the cab stopped in front of Meg's mansion, Christine paid the driver and hopped out. On her way to the front door she dropped her cigarette and snuffed it under her toe. Christine picked up the large door knocker and dropped it against the wood.

A few moments later, Sorelli opened the door. She was wearing tan plaid golf pants and a brown coat.

"Is that what you're wearing to the show?" Christine asked.

"Heavens no, I'm going golfing with the head of a prestigious French dance company."

"You play golf?"

"Not at all, but I dance, and this is a great way to get closer to a prominent figure in the dance world." Sorelli stepped onto the porch and got into a car that had pulled up while they were talking. "Enjoy the show." She said before getting into the back of the car and driving off.

Christine walked inside and closed the door behind her. "Hello?" She called.

"In here!" Raoul's voice said from the sunroom.

Christine walked into the sunroom and saw Raoul buttoning up his cuffs. "Hello dear!" He said cheerfully.

"Hi Raoul, where's your wife?"

"Meg? Oh she won't be joining us today."

Christine felt very awkward and uncomfortable upon hearing this news. "Pardon?" She asked worriedly.

"She's got her death of cold, but that shouldn't put a damper on our day!"

"Can, um, can I see her maybe? Just for a moment?"

"Oh well she's just fallen asleep but I'll send her your love."

Christine's shoulders slumped. "Oh, thanks."

Raoul placed his hand low on Christine's waist, causing her to tense up. "Off we go then!"


	10. Unfaithful

Raoul led Christine down the driveway and helped her into the passenger seat of his car. Raoul drove a dark blue Coupe with limited seating. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, the roar wasn't nearly as impressive as Erik's beastly car, but it was still loud. Christine sat on the very edge of her seat, trying to put as much room between her and Raoul as possible.

They drove in silence for a long time until they reached the mainland, Raoul parked in front of a train station and walked up to a ticket booth, leaving Christine in the car. She stepped out of the car and followed Raoul.

"Two tickets to the city please." He requested, pulling out his wallet and paying the booth attendant. The worker handed Raoul the tickets. "Your train leaves in a few minutes, I'd hurry if I were you." He said.

Raoul took Christine by the hand and ran through the parking lot and up onto the train platform. They made it to the train before it left, but they were too late to get comfortable seats.

The summer temperatures soared into the nineties that day and the train was packed with sweaty, crabbing passengers. Christine and Raoul sat pressed up against one another on a bench seat. Christine was sandwiched between Raoul, who got the window seat, and a drum that the little boy sitting across from them was beating on.

The train ambled on frustratingly slowly. Sweat poured down Christine's face and back, she could feel her makeup running. A railroad crossing bar was up and the train slowed to let cars pass before it whizzed by. Raoul stared out the window and, with a sudden burst of energy, leaped out of his seat, pulling Christine up with him. "Come on!" He shouted, pushing through the aisle. Christine followed. Raoul jumped from the train car and onto the ashen ground, he extended his arms to Christine. "Jump! Hurry!" He cried.

Christine heard a worker yelling at her to get in her seat, she made the split second decision and launched out of the train car and into Raoul's arms. Raoul stumbled backwards when he caught her but retained his balance. Once she was steadied, Christine looked around and saw the depressing landscape of The Valley of Ashes.

"What are we doing here?" She asked.

Raoul started walking down the road. "Follow me." He called over his shoulder.

When Raoul stopped walking, he and Christine stood in front of a garage. A large, worn out sign plastered across the side of the building read: "Wilson's Garage".

"A garage?" Christine asked.

"It's only a quick stop." Raoul said, walking inside.

A man with black hair and an appearance similar to Raoul's stopped polishing a car and stood to face his guests. He was dirty and he held a rag that dripped with car wax. "Raoul! Nice to you see you brother!" He exclaimed, the man stepped forward to embrace Raoul but stopped when Raoul stepped back. Raoul looked him up and down, taking in his filthiness. The man laughed. "Sorry, sorry, but some of us work for a living!"

Raoul turned to Christine and introduced her to the man. "Phillippe this is Christine, a family friend. Christine this is Phillippe, my older brother."

Christine smiled at Phillippe and shook his hand politely. "Pleasure to meet you! I bet you and my wife would hit it off!" He exclaimed, then he walked over to a spiral staircase and shouted into the room above. "Jammes, get down here we've got guests!"

A young woman in her mid-twenties came striding down the stairs. She had short brown hair that was held back by a green headband. She wore a revealing red and white dress, and red netted stockings tucked into silver heels. Her bangle-covered wrists made clanking noises as she approached. Phillippe draped an arm over Jammes' shoulders and beamed proudly. "Christine, this is my wife Jammes." He said.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of a phone ringing came from an office. Phillippe excused himself and rushed into the office.

When Phillippe was gone, Jammes stepped close to Raoul and placed her hands on his chest. He bent down and gave her a quick kiss. He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and pressed it into Jammes' palm. "Get on the next train to the city, call your brother too." Raoul looked over at Christine then back at Jammes. "She'd like him." He added.

Christine began to protest, but stopped when she realized that she was being completely ignored.

Raoul's cheating came as no shock to Christine, Sorelli had told Christine that Raoul was infamous for his adultery. Just a few days after his wedding to Meg, Raoul had gotten into a horrible car accident and in the passenger seat next to him was a chambermaid from the Santa Barbara Hotel; the incident made all the local papers.

"Raoul, can we get the dog today? For the apartment?" Jammes pleaded. Raoul nodded. "Whatever you want."

The creaking of Phillippe's office door startled Raoul and Jammes, they broke apart quickly and acted as if nothing had happened.

"Well we're off to see a play, I'll call you." Raoul said with a smile before leading Christine out the door.

In the city, Raoul and Christine met up with Jammes at the train station where Raoul presented to her a little Schnauzer puppy. "Raoul, I said I wanted one of those police dogs." Jammes said, unimpressed.

"It's the same damn thing." Raoul snapped.

Christine was dragged around New York City all day, until three o'clock when Raoul and Jammes brought her to the hidden flat they kept for their "exploits". Leaving Christine sitting awkwardly on the couch with the dog, Raoul and Jammes retreated into another room and shut the door behind them. Christine sat with the dog and watched it lick itself.

There was a knock on the door and Christine stood up, thankful for a distraction. She opened up the door to see an attractive young man in a teal suit. "Hello there, I'm Cameron. Ain't we havin' a party?" He said. Christine stepped back and began to stutter out a response. Raoul appeared behind Christine and invited Cameron in, slapping him on the back as he walked past. Christine tried to sneak out the open door but a couple appeared in the doorway.

"Oh you must be the friend, you're absolutely adorable!" The woman exclaimed, grabbing Christine's cheeks.

"Thanks." Christine said, overwhelmed.

The man and woman made their way inside and began mingling with the ever-growing crowd. Raoul shut the door and pulled Christine back into the main room. Christine yanked her hand away from Raoul and hurried to the door, Raoul followed and grabbed her shoulders as she tried to leave. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"Raoul, I have to go. I grew up with Meg and this isn't right. Meg is my friend and Jammes is your sister-in-law." Christine said as she tried to break free of Raoul's grip.

"C'mon Christine, it's all in good fun! Do you want to be spend your whole life sitting in the audience," Raoul gestured to his friends. "or do you want to be part of the show?"

Christine glanced at the guests who now stared at her expectantly. Giving into the peer pressure, Christine sighed and walked back into the room as a choir of cheers erupted; she smiled shyly. Cameron approached Christine, he slid her purse off of her shoulder and tossed it into a corner. "Put your purse down and stay awhile." He said. Christine stepped away from Cameron and into a potted fern.

"Um, plant." She muttered, trying to cover up her blunder.

Cameron laughed at her awkwardness and pulled a canister out of his jacket pocket. He took a little white pill out of it. "Nerve pills, a young doctor in Queens prescribed them to me. Do you want one?"

Christine shook her head. "Oh no, my nerves are just fine." She said, seriously doubting this young doctor's credentials. Cameron shrugged and popped the pill into his mouth before pulling Christine close and kissing her. When she pulled away, Raoul was there offering her a glass of wine. Desperate for an escape, Christine accepted the drink.

Only twice in her life had Christine Daaé ever been drunk, the third time was that afternoon.

There in the secret flat that Raoul kept tucked away for Jammes, people's minds were possessed by a chemical reaction that tampered with senses and blurred boundaries.

At around midnight, the night took a dark turn.

Cameron lay sprawled across the floor in a drunken sleep, Raoul and Jammes had retreated once more into the separate room. The couple, whose names were Ubaldo and Carlotta, sat together on the couch and talked tiredly. Christine crawled out a window onto a red fire-escape. She glanced curiously into the windows of the building across the street. Christine wondered what secrets every individual window had to share with the casual observer. She guessed that her windows had their fair share of secrets to tell to someone, and now, she was that someone, wondering about other people's lives.

Christine was within, and without.

Sounds of shouting erupted from within the apartment and Christine turned around to look in through the window. Jammes stormed into the main room followed by Raoul. "Shut-up! Don't say her name!" He shouted. Jammes spun around to face him and stomped her feet. "I'll say whatever I want!"

Raoul's face turned red. "You've got no right to speak that name!"

"Meg, Meg, Meg!" Jammes screamed at the top of her lungs.

Raoul raised his hand and struck Jammes across her face. She crumpled to the ground. Carlotta rushed over to her and cradled the woman in her arms. "You're insane!" She screamed up at Raoul.

Raoul grumbled something inaudibly and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Christine stayed on the fire escape, observing. She felt no urge to go inside and help, in fact, she felt nothing at all.

Christine watched the happenings in the apartment for the next ten minutes. Ubaldo had determined that Jammes had a broken nose and Cameron took his sister to the hospital. Gathering their things, Carlotta and Ubaldo left too, forgetting about the still present Christine.

When everyone had gone, Christine crawled back through the window and collected her things before letting herself out, leaving all the lights on in the disheveled apartment with the carpet covered in fresh blood.

On the street below, Christine bumped into Raoul who was lurking in an alley near the apartment. Together they split the cost of a cab back to Long Island.

The cab pulled up in front of Christine's cottage and Raoul walked her up the path to her porch. "Goodbye Raoul." Christine said tiredly. Raoul grabbed Christine by the waist and tried to kiss her. His breath smelled like whiskey and Christine pushed him away, but he just tried again. "Raoul stop, go home." Christine said firmly. The man stopped and turned around, stumbling back to the cab pathetically. Christine watched him warily before retreating back into her home.

High up in one of the towers that rose from the lavish castle next to Christine's home, another observer sat.

He saw Raoul's unwelcomed advances on Christine, and he wasn't pleased.


	11. Prohibition for the Coalition

Saturday afternoon, the day before Erik's show, Christine received a large package.

Inside the package, was a knee-length dress that was covered in silver and green glitter. Sewn onto the hemline was a cream colored boa and the dress had a plunging v-neck the went down the center of Christine's chest. Included with the dress was a jewel encrusted piece of hand-jewelry that looked like a glove until it tapered off into a ring that wrapped around Christine's middle finger.

Also in the box was pearl tassel necklace that Christine wrapped around her neck then let drape down her back, and a pair of shiny gray heels with elaborate, beautiful silver straps.

On Sunday morning, Christine showered and put on the outfit from the box, then she left home and walked to Erik's.

Instead of Erik's main servant Daroga, Erik himself answered the door. He smiled brightly when he saw Christine in her outfit. "You look splendid Christine! If music itself was a person it'd look like you!" Erik pulled Christine close and kissed her forehead softly.

Christine shoved Erik back and smoothed out the front of her dress. "Just tell me what to do." She said.

Erik didn't seem shocked and he looked at Christine sympathetically. "Christine, I'm sorry to put you in this position, but I need your help. I simply can't do this myself. To help you feel more comfortable I've invited Sorelli and Meg to the show."

Christine felt some tension melt away at the mention of her friends' names but the gnawing dread still remained.

Taking Christine by the hand gently, Erik lead her into his house. From the cabinets beneath a mirror table, he produced two dusty bottles. "If I may?" Erik asked, gesturing to the boa on Christine's dress. Confused, she granted him permission do what he wished.

Erik got on his knees and took the boa in his hands. He found a small, hidden button and opened it. He slipped the bottles into the boa like a foot into a sock, they made the dress feel heavy on Christine's shoulders. "Am I smuggling alcohol?" She asked. "There are prohibition laws Erik, plus there are plenty of ways to get bootleg alcohol. Half of Wall Street is swimming in over-the-counter booze right now."

Erik buttoned the boa up again and stood up. "Just because it's accessible doesn't mean respectable men like Walter Chase want people knowing they drink, besides, this liquor is German and highly illegal."

"Why do you have it if it's so illegal?" Christine asked, adjusting the dress on her shoulders. Erik shrugged. "I know people who know people."

With the illegal substances hidden in her dress, Christine accompanied Erik to "Populaire", the club where his show took place.

Populaire was huge and elegant-looking, golden statues adorned the entrance and guided visitors to the dining area/stage.

"Now Christine, I've written you a song. All you'll do is sing it at your queue then when you go offstage Walter Chase will meet you in the wings to get his booze. Simple enough?" Erik explained. Christine nodded deftly despite the fact that she wasn't all that confident in her singing abilities.

When people began to arrive and take their seats at tables that had been reserved months in advance, Christine peeked through the curtain nervously.

"Are your friends here?" Erik asked, coming up behind Christine.

She nodded and pointed at a table in the center of the room. Erik looked where Christine pointed and was shocked to see not only Meg and Sorelli, but Raoul as well. He growled angrily.

"Erik, did you just... growl?" Christine asked. Erik turned to look at her, his visible left cheek flushing pink. "No." He said firmly.

Erik donned a new mask tonight. It was grayish-white and covered the right side of his face, stopping at the top of his upper lip and spanning half of his forehead. This mask covered all of his nose and protruded outwards slightly, a swooping indentation gave the appearance of an eyebrow and a light dusting of pink on the cheek attempted to look like blush. Next to his lip, the mask scooped down over his cheek and down to his jawline.

Moncharmin jogged past Erik and Christine in a blur and entered onto the stage. He walked over to a microphone and tapped it a few times. "Test, test. Ladies and gentleman, our honored guests! Welcome to Populaire, home of New York's best-selling flapper show! Let's begin shall we?"

The crowd clapped Moncharmin off the stage and he was replaced by four flappers in short black dresses.

Christine sat backstage and read over her music. The song was simple enough and Erik said someone would have queue cards for her behind the audience. When at last she was called for places, Christine felt more nervous than she ever had in any of her auditions.

Taking the stage, Christine sang Erik's song, an aria called "Love Never Dies". A burst of cheers and applause erupted from the audience when Christine finished and she blushed under the harsh stage lights. A man in the back of the room stood up and made his way over to the stage door.

 _Walter Chase._ Christine realized. She bowed and blew a kiss to her friends before scurrying off stage-left.

In the wing, Walter Chase stood, waiting. Christine unbuttoned the boa and slipped the alcohol out of her dress. Walter Chase took the bottles and tucked them away in a briefcase. "Should I tip you?" He asked jokingly when the exchange was finished.

Christine, knowing how serious her actions were, looked at Walter seriously. "Your silence about this matter will be a tip enough." She said.

The man nodded and left the wing.

In the audience, Sorelli observed the flapper girls. She leaned over to Meg. "These dances are child's play, I can learn these in a second. I'm going to ask Erik if I can get in on tonight's little fun-show. Come with me?" Sorelli said.

Meg stood up and joined her friend, leaving Raoul mesmerized by the women onstage.

Backstage, Christine searched for Erik in the wings to tell him that the deed was done. She stopped a stagehand and asked where she might find him. "Mr. Leroux's got himself an office by the propmaster's room." The young man said. Christine thanked him and headed to Erik's office.

Christine knocked on the office door. "It's me, it's Christine. Can I come in?" She said. From inside, Erik gave the all-clear and Christine opened the door. In his office, Erik sat at a desk, he was going over papers that listed funds like food and ticket sales for the night.

"Walter Chase got his stuff." Christine informed him.

"Good, good. Thank you so much for doing that." Erik said, still looking down at his papers.

Noticing how engrossed Erik was in his work, Christine realized the perfect opportunity to unmask him would be now. Creeping forward and darting behind him, Christine extended a hand out to Erik's face. He moved his head slightly and she pulled back quickly.

Trying again, with a mischievous smiled, Christine reached out and tore away the mask.

Erik's hand covered his face in an instant. He shoved Christine backwards with his free hand and jumped from his seat. Christine tumbled back onto a couch, mask still in her hand.

"Damn you! You little prying pandora!" Erik screeched, rushing at her.

Christine jumped off the couch and fell to the floor. "You little demon!" Erik looked down at Christine, who sat on the floor now.

"This is what you wanted to see?" He asked menacingly, removing his hand from his face. Christine glanced up but whipped her head away quickly. What she had caught a glimpse of was too horrible for words.

Erik stumbled away from Christine and back to his desk. "Damn you!" He moaned, knocking all of his papers to the floor. "Curse you."

"It's stranger than you could've dreamt it, Christine." He said gently. "Can you even dare to look, or bare to the see monster?"

Christine looked at Erik, only to see that he had joined her on the ground, hand back over his face. "I'm a repulsive gargoyle. The kind of beast who _burns_ in Hell, but secretly yearns for Heaven... secretly."

Erik began to inch towards Christine slowly. As he got closer, she moved back farther. "But my dear, fear can turn to love, you'll learn to see that. I promise you that there is a man behind the monster, this revolting carcass... oh Christine." Erik's voice dripped with self-hatred.

When Christine looked up she saw him sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head between his legs. Gently she tapped on his shoulder and handed the mask back to him.

Erik snatched the mask out of Christine's hand and put it back on in one fluid motion. He stroked his hands down the back of his slicked-back hair, smoothing it and setting the mask in its place. "Come we must go, your friends will be wanting to see you." Erik said, standing up and pulling Christine up with him.

From outside the office, Meg and Sorelli heard everything. They worried for their friend, wondering what the poisonous Erik might do to the pure, young Christine.


	12. A Perfectly Irresistible Imagination

In the week following Erik's outburst, Christine received gift after gift from Erik as he attempted to substitute a proper apology with things.

On Monday, Christine received a filigree hinged bangle bracelet with amber rhinestones.

On Wednesday, she got a gold necklace with art-deco style golden leaves dangling from it.

On Friday, Christine was sent a pair of designer shoes. They were blue leather pumps with laces that tied together shiny blue flaps.

On Saturday, Christine got an invitation in the mail to Erik's party later that night.

Grudgingly she decided she'd attend the party, but not alone. Christine called Meg and invited her, Sorelli, and Raoul to come with. They accepted.

To the party, Christine wore all of Erik's gifts paired with a dark blue, halter swing dress.

At the crowded entrance to Erik's, Christine joined with Meg, Raoul, and Sorelli. Together the group of friends entered the party castle.

From a balcony overlooking his pool, Erik watched the entrance to his home like a falcon watching a rabbit hole. He scanned the steady flow of people, looking for a familiar head of curly brown hair.

 _Oh, my Christine. Where are you?_ He wondered mournfully.

Christine walked into the party with her arms linked with Sorelli on one side and Meg on the other. Her friends glanced around, searching for Erik warily.

When they got past the crowd, Erik approached the group of girls and Raoul. "Ladies, Mister de Chagney." He said, nodding to each person as he addressed them.

Erik kissed the hands of each lady politely, but Sorelli was the only one to say anything in reply. "Hello Erik, lovely party as usual."

Erik thanked Sorelli then tried to talk to Christine but an arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. The governor of New York himself pulled Erik into a hug. "Mr. Leroux, the man in the mask himself! Long time no see, ol' boy. How are things?" He asked, oblivious to the conversation he had just interrupted.

Erik smiled at him weakly. "Things are good Mr. Governor, may I introduce you to my friends? This is the beautiful Christine Daaé, the talented independent Ms. Sorelli, the lovely Meg de Chagney." Erik paused, then waved in Raoul's direction. "Oh and Raoul, Meg's husband." He added smugly.

Raoul seemed upset at being labeled as simply "Meg's husband", but his wife soothed him.

The governor smiled at each of his new acquaintances politely and said a goodbye to Erik before departing.

Erik extended a hand to Christine, inviting her to join him elsewhere. He looked at Meg and Sorelli who both had death grips on Christine's arms. "Ladies, would you mind terribly?" He asked with grace of a well-groomed gentleman.

They glared at him but Christine broke free and took Erik's hand. "It's fine." She said to console them.

Together, Erik and Christine merged into the crowd.

"Sorelli would you like to join me in getting something to eat?" Meg asked her friend. Sorelli nodded.

Raoul decided to hang back. "You go ahead, I think I can entertain myself." He said.

From behind, Raoul heard a voice and he turned to see Erik. "Here you go Monsieur," Erik said, slipping a pen with his emblem engraved on it, into Raoul's lapel. "In case you need to take down any addresses."

Before Raoul could react, Erik was gone again.

To experience one of Erik's parties with Erik himself, is to experience it for the first time.

He knew practically everyone in attendance and an interesting fact about each of them. He pointed out fez-clad Freemasons gathered around a piano, broadway directors, governors exchanging telephone numbers with gangsters, gossip columnists, heiresses comparing inheritances, film stars, and a hundred other types of people from all walks of life.

On the crowded dancefloor, people seemed to part away for Erik as he led Christine to a spot where they could dance. He held her close to his chest and they swayed.

Christine glanced around the room in the same wonder she had at her first party. "Erik, is all of this entirely from your own imagination?" She asked.

"Of course, but I never had a real reason to do this."

Christine looked up at him through the ornamental mask she had received so long ago. "Do you have a reason now?"

"Yes, you. This is all for you now, and if anything is not to your liking, I can change it."

Christine smiled up at Erik. "No, it's perfect. From your perfectly irresistible imagination."

Erik glanced over at Meg and Sorelli who were sitting at a table and eating hors-d'oeuvres, then he looked at Raoul who was sitting _very_ close to a pretty movie starlet. Satisfied that no one was paying attention, Erik led Christine off the dancefloor. A young man stepped into Erik's path. "Wonderful party, Erik." He said in a sleazy tone.

Erik glared at the man. "Watch yourself, Slagle." He growled, then pushed past him with Christine in tow.

Christine was lead to the gates overlooking a garden, she proceeded through them. Erik followed, nodding to two servants who stood guard at the garden's entrance.

Down a set of stone steps and through a small hedge maze, Christine found a small groundskeeper's shed tucked away under a sweeping oak. She wandered over to it and admired the quaint beauty of the little structure. The cracking of twigs, alerted Christine to Erik's presence behind her, she turned to face him. Erik stood by the oak and Christine approached him slowly, like a kind soul approaching a flighty stray cat.

She reached her hand out to stroke Erik's left cheek, initially he pulled away from her touch but gradually Erik leaned into it, closing his eyes.

"I wish it could always be like this." Christine sighed. Erik took her by the shoulders. "It can be, Christine, it can be!" He whispered excitedly.

Christine drew away. "There's just too much. Too much happening. Too much that _can't_ happen." She said.

Christine leaned back against the oak tree and bowed her head in defeat. What she had with Erik wasn't love, it was something strange but she couldn't place a word to it.

Erik bent down to look up at Christine. He moved closer and kissed her. Gradually they both straightened up until Christine was on tip-toe to kiss Erik back. He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her close, still kissing her. Christine tilted her head out of the kiss and Erik kissed her cheek and jawline by her ear. "I wish we could run away, Erik." She breathed.

Erik stiffened up and stepped back suddenly. "No Christine. That wouldn't be respectable, we can have love and we can have it here." Erik gestured over to his palace. "In _our_ home."

"But-" Erik silenced Christine with another kiss that was interrupted when Sorelli and Raoul appeared.

"What's going on here?" Raoul asked challengingly.

Erik pulled away from Christine and glared at Raoul, still holding Christine at his chest. The two men stared at one another, Erik burning Raoul with the heat of his eyes, and Raoul struggling not to look away in submission.

Christine ended the face-off by stepping out of Erik's grip and towards Raoul. "We were having a rouse." She said.

Sorelli spoke up now: "Whatever about?"

"Politics." Erik said in a low voice.

"Oh."

"Christine we're going, Meg is plastered." Raoul said. Sorelli gave him a sharp look. "Speak for yourself, I'm staying." She snapped.

Raoul shrugged and left, he passed Daroga on his way to get his wife.

Daroga approached Erik. "Sir, Mr. Slagle is highly _emotional_ right now." He said darkly. Erik nodded solemnly.

"I have something to attend to, I'll join you ladies later." Erik said, then he followed Daroga back to the castle.

Sorelli and Christine enjoyed the party for a few more hours but Erik never returned as promised. He had disappeared to handle some private business and found himself tied up in that.

Raoul and Meg returned home. Meg went home and slept off the alcohol, Raoul made it a point to learn more about this mysterious Mr. Leroux.


	13. An Unwelcome Guest

A few weeks after Erik's party, Meg decided she wanted to throw a menagerie of her own.

The party planing committee consisted of Meg, Sorelli, and Christine.

The three women met at Meg's house the afternoon before the party was scheduled to commence. They adorned the mansion with golden decorations.

The theme of the party was a black and white ball, the golden decorations would compliment the costumes perfectly.

"Sorelli, Christine, please invite anyone you'd like." Meg said as she taped paper decorations onto the wall.

"I'll bring a date." Sorelli replied.

Meg and Christine responded with "oooo" noises and smiled at their friend.

"A date, you say?" Christine asked.

"Just a fella' I met after a gig at Populaire."

"I didn't know you still performed there."

"Erik offered me a job two weeks ago."

"And you took it?"

"Duh."

Meg interrupted the conversation with a concerned look on her delicate features. "Speaking of Erik..."

"Yes?" Christine asked with tinge of venom in her voice.

"Please don't invite him."

"Why not, Meg?"

"I don't trust him, there's something off about him. I can't place it."

Sorelli scoffed. "Is it the mask, the genius mind, the well-rehearsed backstory monologue, the solitude, the flappers, or am I missing something else 'off' about Erik Leroux?"

Christine slapped her shoulder lightly. "Oh stop it Sorelli. Erik is unique, so what? You're pretty different yourself. How many women behave the way you do, Sorelli?" She retorted.

Sorelli shrugged. "Not many, I hope. If people start becoming more like me, I'll have to change my whole personality!"

Raoul walked into the room and provided a much needed end to the escalating conversation.

"Christine you look lovely." He commented, eying the houseguest hungrily.

Christine wore a white silk dress with floral patterns and a tan pair of women's Oxford pumps with a small gold buckle. On her head she wore an Edwardian wedding hat with a bow and lace.

Meg seemed slightly put off by Raoul's immediate complimenting of Christine. In an act of "marking her territory" she approached her husband and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Raoul returned the kiss half-heartedly with open eyes that wandered to Christine.

When the kiss ended, Raoul dismissed it and grabbed his polo mallet that leaned against the staircase. "I'm off to the field," he swung the mallet over his shoulder. "I'll be back in time for the festivities." He said.

Around four p.m., the preparations were done.

"You girls, please don't forget to bring a guest!" Meg encouraged. In a more serious tone she added: "Christine, please don't bring that Erik of yours. I don't trust him for a hot New York minute."

Sorelli nodded in a agreement.

Feeling ganged-up upon and slightly attacked, Christine agreed icily.

Christine returned home bitterly and tried to put the heated conversation out of her mind.

She donned a long white dress with a scooping back and sweeping hem.

When she was satisfied with her outfit, Christine departed for Meg's.

The driveway was packed with cars, people from Meg and Raoul's upperclass social circles milled around.

When Meg, their lovely blonde hostess opened the door. People were shocked to see a head of brown hair.

Meg would tell her friends that she dyed her hair as a fashion statement, but the truth is, she was jealous of the way her beloved husband looked at Christine and her curly brown locks.

The party commenced as planned. People gossiped and chatted, Sorelli and her date sat together looking equally bored, Meg was all over Raoul, and Christine stood all at the buffet table eating a dangerous amount of chocolate covered marshmallows.

Even Meg's food choices went along with the party's theme.

An hour into the party, the band stopped playing the Jazz music that people were swinging along with. A loud deafening organ filled the foyer and people flinched in shock. The lights dimmed and down the staircase descended a dark figure. When the lights returned to their normal brightness, there was a huge collective gasp.

Christine and everyone else stared up to see Erik Leroux standing at the middle of the stairs. He wore all red and had a pair of black riding boots on. Sheathed in his belt was a silver saber with a skull's head as the handle. On Erik's face was a mask that covered the top half of his face. It resembled a skull. Dark paint made his eyes look sunken in and helped the whites stand out.

Each time he took a step down, the organ player would strike a key. Raoul was upon the musician in a moment, shoving him of the bench.

"Why so silent, good monsieurs?" Erik said, opening up his arms to gesture around the room. "How awkward that I wasn't invited! I suppose the hostess forgot?"

Meg cowered behind Raoul at Erik's mention of her.

"She didn't forget! You aren't wanted here!" Raoul cried angrily. Erik scoffed.

"I'm plenty wanted! Christine my dear, you want me here don't you?" He said, acid dripped from his words.

Raoul left his wife behind and grabbed Christine protectively. "She wants nothing to do with you." He growled.

Erik noticed Raoul's hands low on Christine's waist. He was flushed with passionate fury. He unsheathed his saber and tossed it like a javelin at a candelabra.

The saber hit the candles with frightening accuracy and the toppled to the ground igniting a huge wall tapestry.

The fire spread quickly and people screamed and bustled to the door.

In the commotion, Raoul let go of Christine and Erik swooped her up before they both disappeared.

When the fire was out, Raoul cornered the organ player. "Why did you play music for him!? Are you his accomplice!?" He questioned.

"The man approached me beforehand and threatened my life. When I agreed, he payed me handsomely." The young man squeaked out.

Raoul was now a man on a mission.

Erik Leroux needed to be taken down a few rungs, and Raoul was just the right man for the job.


	14. Enchanted Objects

"Erik let go! Where are we?" Christine was being tugged through an underground cellar by Erik who had ahold of her arm.

They emerged from the ground and onto the street about a block away from Raoul and Meg's home.

Parked in the shadows was Erik's car, he pulled Christine into the vehicle before getting in himself and taking off back towards West Egg.

Not far behind, Raoul followed them furiously in his Coupé. He struggled to keep up with Erik's reckless driving.

The masked man bobbed and weaved through traffic and Raoul swerved dangerously to follow.

Erik pulled up in front of his home and dragged Christine from his car and up the steps.

Over her shoulder, Christine spotted Raoul's car appearing in the darkness and she sighed in relief. Raoul would help her.

"Erik please! Don't do this, let me go." Christine pleaded.

Erik whipped his head around, eyes burning through the white mask. "I'm doing this because I love you!"

"What?"

"Christine, I love you." Erik said softly.

"Y-you love me?"

"Yes! Yes, I love you!" Erik began chattering excitedly, professing his love for Christine, but with each word Christine drew further and further within herself, blocking Erik out completely.

An angry banging on the doors drew their attention. "Answer it." Erik commanded, releasing Christine.

Christine walked slowly over to the door and ghosted her hand over the handle gingerly.

"Now."

She pulled the door open and a sopping wet Raoul stood in the pouring rain.

"Raoul?" Christine asked.

"Bravo, Monsieur!" Erik clapped his hands in sadistic delight. "I had had harbored a secret hope that you would come and now my wish comes true! You have truly made my night!"

Raoul ignored Erik's warm welcome and focused on Christine instead. "Let her go! Free her, do whatever you want, just free her!" He begged.

"Free her? Why, Monsieur, she's not trapped. Christine is here by her own free will. I see no chains."

"She doesn't love you! Tell him Christine, tell him you never loved him."

Tears stained Christine's cheeks, but Raoul chided and she whimpered softly. "I- I never loved him."

Erik let out a bellowing laugh. "Never? Never?" He asked in a demeaning tone.

"Never." Christine replied softly.

"Not even when I took you in the hydroplane? Not when we danced? Never? Come on now."

Christine looked indecisive and Raoul rushed upon her. "Do it, Christine. Tell him!"

"Stop it Raoul! You're asking too much of me! I can't say I never loved Erik Leroux because I'd be lying!" She cried.

Before Raoul could beg her some more, Christine ran from the foyer and up the stairs, slamming a door behind her.

In the room, Christine glanced around. She had never been in here. There a lone bed in the middle of the room and an open closet circled the room on a balcony. Photos lined the walls, Erik was in many of them.

 _This must be his room._ Christine thought.

She climbed the stairs to the closet and looked at Erik's things. Silk shirts were folded and organized by color on various shelves. A locked cabinet drew Christine's eye. In the drawer below it she found a little silver key.

Christine unlocked the cabinet and saw that it was filled with masks. Some she had seen, others that were new to her, broken ones, scuffed ones, ones that looked to small.

One particular mask caught Christine's attention. It was a small burlap sack with jagged eye-holes sheared into it. The sack had plush horns stitched onto it and it smelled like dirt and smoke.

Meanwhile, alone with Erik, Raoul began weighing his options. He could run, the door was right behind him. He could fight, Erik hadn't brought his saber inside and Raoul boxed in highschool.

He chose the second option and squared up. "Let her go, Erik. Free Christine."

"Why do you care? Is it because you love her? I ought to put you in your place, you poor excuse for a husband."

"Do what you want with me, just free her! Show some compassion!"

"The world's shown no compassion to me!" Erik snarled, taking Raoul by surprise. The calm, cool façade was gone and Raoul had full view of the man that Erik really was: A tortured, twisted, hated piece of flesh that stalked the Earth and left death in its wake.

Erik stepped aside and pulled open a drawer on a table. Out of the drawer he produced a Punjab lasso. With a wicked grin, Erik untangled the rope and strode over to Raoul who stumbled backwards in horror.

"Nobody will miss you. Not your poor Meg, not Christine, not Miss Sorelli, no one. In my eyes, I'm doing the world a favor by getting rid of you."

Desperately, Raoul tried to talk Erik down from his murderous high.

"What will you tell everyone? People may not miss me, but they'll want to know where I've gone. The NYPD will search for me and they'll find you."

"You don't seem to get it! I have all of New York at my beck' and call! If I tell the police to stop searching, they will! Your life will end as a question mark next to _"Cause of Death"_ on your death certificate."

Raoul charged towards the doors in a panic-fueled attempt at saving his own life. His fight-or-flight instincts had been activated and Raoul felt like a caged animal in a twisted circus.

As he fought with the doors, Erik came up behind him and casually slipped the noose over his head, causing Raoul to freeze.

"Your choice Monsieur, I can strangle you myself, or you can hang."

Raoul gulped.

"Erik stop!" Christine cried from the top of the stairs. Nobody had seen her reemerge.

"No Christine! We are past the point of no return! These games he's been playing are at an end!"

"Please don't!"

"There is no thought of 'if' or 'when', Christine. Raoul de Chagney will die by my hand, tonight."

Raoul shuddered and tried to push Erik away, but that only made the noose tighten.

"Shh, no use resisting." Erik soothed his victim.

"Let me go you monster!" Raoul choked.

"I've just had a novel idea! Christine, you choose!"

"No Erik! Stop this, now!" Christine came barreling down the steps.

Erik held out a hand and she stopped a few feet away from the men.

"I told you Christine, we are past the point of no return, the final threshold is long gone."

"You have brought me here, Erik, to a moment when time freezes because you've given me the burden of choosing how I condemn someone to death. Well, I've decided."

"Out with it then!"

"There's no going back now!"

"Come on, Christine!"

Christine smiled cruelly at Erik. She looked at Raoul's strong arms, then at the ceiling, then into Raoul's pleading eyes. He nodded, the message was received.

"Hang him."

Erik smiled and Daroga appeared from the shadows with a rope. Erik secured Raoul's neck and lurched upwards, hanging the man from his grand chandelier. Raoul held on to the noose as if he was doing a pull-up.

Once Raoul had bragged to Christine that he could hold that position for thirty minutes, and Christine was counting on that.

"There's no use! You'll die up there eventually!" Erik shouted gleefully.

Christine began squeezing her eyes shut, willing tears to fall. The bait worked and Erik stepped forward to comfort her. "Christine, say you'll stay with me."

"What?"

"Anywhere you go, let me go too."

"Erik-"

"That's all I ask of you."

Christine stepped forward and acted as if she were going to stroke Erik's cheek, he leaned into the almost-touch, but Christine pulled the mask from Erik's face instead.

He grabbed at it but Christine dropped the mask onto the tile and crushed it under her foot. The plaster cracked and she stomped once more, shattering it.

"No!" Erik screamed, covering his face. He sank to the ground and hunched over, his body racked with sobs. Suddenly the vulnerability melted away and Erik stood again, giving Christine, Raoul, and Daroga full view of his horrible face.

One eye was missing parts of its lid and it glared fiercer than the normal one. Skull tissue poked out of peeling flesh and brain matter was visible through a jagged gash. His cheek looked concave and raw; his nose bridge was jagged on the left side.

Christine gasped.

"This is it, Christine."

"This is what?"

Erik pulled a gun from his jacket and aimed it up at Raoul. "This is the point of no return!" He shouted, pulling the trigger.

The bullet sliced through the air and connected with Raoul's abdomen, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly.

Christine grabbed Erik's arm and pulled the gun away from him. She pointed it at his evil face, her hands shook.

Erik put his hands up slowly. "I've never fired that; it was a gift and very sentimental to me. I suppose my count of enchanted objects has diminished by one."

Christine dropped the gun and it hit the floor, firing again. The bullet skated across the tile and embedded itself in the base mold of a wall.

Erik kicked the gun away and took Christine in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried, shaking violently. Softly, he stroked her curls. "It'll be better now." He whispered.


	15. Destler

Gradually, Christine calmed down and the horror she was feeling dulled.

Her and Erik sat on his bed, she rested her head in his lap and he stroked her hair. They both stared out the large windows in front of the bed that had a full view of the misty bay. Meg's house stood proud and grand on the horizon.

Meg was probably home gossiping with Sorelli in blissful ignorance while servants cleaned up the failed party.

"How strange that you can see Meg's house from here." Christine commented.

Erik ignored her observation and continued to play with her hair, starting deftly ahead. He had acquired a new mask at some point, it was old looking. The white color had yellowed and it was dingy and tattered, he must've worn it many times. The mask covered all of Erik's face except his mouth, chin, and eyes. Around the eyeholes was painted black, but it had faded to a dark gray.

The pictures on the wall attracted Christine's attention once more. One of them featured a beautiful middle-eastern woman dressed in elegant traditional clothing.

"Who is this?" Christine asked, walking over to the picture and pointing at the woman. "Your mother?"

Erik rubbed his hands down the back of his smooth, slicked back hair and stood up. He took the frame off the wall and held it sentimentally.

"No, her name was Sultana. She was my best friend."

" _Was_?"

"Yes, she passed away tragically many years ago. She had planned to leave her court and fortune to me, but her family swooped in and stole it."

"Oh Erik, I'm sorry."

"So am I."

That night, Erik led Christine down to the dock where they sat with their legs dangling above the water. An ominous feeling of running out of time flooded Erik's senses and he felt words against his lips like water against a weak dam.

It was then that Christine learned who Erik really was. She learned that Erik Leroux was a mere façade invented by Erik Destler, a far less extraordinary man.

Erik Destler was the disgustingly deformed son of a religious mother and an alcoholic father from South Dakota. They told him that he was a spawn of Satan and that he was as far from Heaven as a person could get, but in his mind, Erik was a son of God. He believed that any love he didn't get from his parents would be made up for in future wealth and power.

At age sixteen, Erik set out on his own.

He was kidnapped by a traveling circus and locked in a cage a year after leaving home. The circus named him _"The Devil Child"_ and fashioned him a mask out of a sack.

Christine realized that this was the mask she had found earlier in Erik's room. She wondered why he would keep such a crude memento.

After killing his master in self-defense six-months into the tour, Erik escaped the circus with the help of a young woman who made him his first real mask. This one was a white half-mask, the kind present-day Erik was so fond of.

The woman and her baby daughter left for Canada one cold night and Erik was on his own again.

When he was nineteen, Erik stowed away in the cargo hold of a ship heading to Europe. He ended up in Persia where his genius in the field of architecture got him noticed by a wealthy young woman named Sultana.

Sultana took Erik in and they lived together for six years until Sultana passed away and Erik was stripped of the fortune she had left him.

Dejected and poor again, Erik headed back to America where his gentlemanly manners made him seem out of place on the streets that he was living on. A wealthy scam-artist noticed this, his name was Armand Moncharmin.

Moncharmin took Erik off the streets, gave him fancy suits, a palace on Long Island, and more money than the boy had ever seen. Erik was to be the face of Moncharmin's scam empire.

Clean-cut, charismatic, and masked. Just what people would expect when dealing with the black market.

Together, Erik and Armand created an entire backstory for him and rehearsed it to a tee.

A few months of training and grooming later, Erik was allowed to enter society. New clothes, new masks, new everything. He was like a young debutante at her first cotillion ball.

In Erik's name, Armand bought up the stock market, and the newspapers couldn't get enough of the "Masked Mogul", as they had dubbed Erik. To keep the press hungry for more on Erik, Armand suggested that Erik become a more public figure. That's when the parties started.

Every weekend, a party of epic and unseen proportions would erupt from Erik's palace. It was a news media field day and nobody could shake the name Erik Leroux from their minds.

Then a pretty young actress moved in next door and Erik's world shifted on its axis. Suddenly his actions weren't focused around Moncharmin anymore, his life had a new focal point, Christine Daaé.

Christine listened to Erik tell his story with a blank expression.

The war hero, Oxford graduate that she had come to know and love didn't exist.

"Erik, you have all of this money and power now, just leave Moncharmin. He can't rule you anymore." She reasoned.

Erik shook his head sadly and frowned. "If only Miss Daaé, if only I could. No matter how much power I have, it all belongs to him in some way."

"Well Erik, so do you."

"I know."


	16. The Plaza Hotel

The Plaza Hotel was the pinnacle of New York City for the rich and famous. Its lavish bedrooms, hospitable staff, and stunning reputation drew high-class individuals from all over the world.

Erik and Christine decided that this would be the perfect place to inform Meg of her husband's death.

The afternoon after the shooting, Christine called Meg and invited her and Sorelli out to lunch at the hotel. Meg was still bristling over Erik crashing her party, but the promise of cold champagne at the hotel lured her to accept the invitation. Thank goodness Christine had thought to use the stifling heat to her advantage.

While Erik readied himself to go, Christine prepared as well. Daroga had provided Christine with an outfit to wear.

It was a flesh colored tight dress underneath a black lace dress that had flowering patterns stitched into it. Beneath the left sleeve was black draping that connected into a belt-like design on the hips. The dress extended just past Christine's knees and attached to the left shoulder were three pale pink roses with pastel leaves. Along with the dress, Christine received a low pair of shiny black heels that had two ornamental straps, both leading into a velvet bow. Some hand jewelry completed the look; four layers of black beads on her wrist leading to a silver plate covered in diamonds and adorned with three rubies that tapered off into a beaded silver ring.

When the two of them were ready, Erik and Christine got into his car and headed to the city.

"Erik, you ought to wear black, it's respectful." Christine said as they drove.

Erik shrugged. "I like this suit, and I'm not in mourning."

"But Meg and Sorelli will be, it's rude."

"I shot the woman's husband last night, I doubt my suit color is the worst thing I could do to her." Erik said bluntly.

Christine quieted, but she fumed inwardly. Erik wore a light pink suit and tan oxfords. He had his gentleman's cane and a tan hat sat on the seat beside him. On Erik's face was, yet another, new mask. This one greatly resembled the mask he had worn to the speakeasy weeks ago but it was fuller and the tapering-offs were rounder. The brow line protruded outwards noticeably, giving his right eye a dark and sunken-in appearance.

Meg and Sorelli arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes before Erik and Christine. They sat and waited in the lobby's bar. An old man bought Sorelli drink after drink while Meg used the phone to try and find her husband. When their friends arrived, the group of four went to a hotel room Erik had rented out for lunch.

The heat made people crabby and lunch was hard to enjoy. Christine telephoned room service and had a whole block of ice brought to the room. She supervised as the ice was crushed into little chips.

While Christine worked ice-duty, Erik sat awkwardly with Meg and Sorelli.

Meg sat in an armchair with a judgmental look in her eye, while Erik and Sorelli sat crammed in a white and gold love-seat.

"You haven't, um, seen my husband around by any chance?" Meg asked suddenly. Erik started at the question, but regained his cool. "I feel as if I should wait for Christine to answer that." He replied.

When Christine returned with a pail of ice she wrapped ice in towels and dispersed them around the room. Meg dabbed at her face with the cool towel while everyone else draped their across the back of their necks.

"Well Christine is here now," Meg spat. "So out with it, Mr. Leroux."

Erik gripped Christine's hand and looked Meg square in the face. "Mr. de Chagney is dead."

Meg hand flew to her mouth to conceal a gasp and her eyes widened. Her entire body shivered but she made no sound. Everyone stared at her, waiting for tears, sobs, anything. Nothing ever came.

Sorelli stood up and approached her best friend, crouching down and placing a hand on Meg's knee. "He never loved you Meg, you know that. Raoul cheated on you and used you, but he's gone and you have his money and your freedom."

Meg shoved Sorelli away. "I'm not like you Sorelli! I don't want to use people, this isn't a situation to make the best out of! My husband is dead!" She whipped her head around to face Erik and Christine who sat together on the love-seat. "How did this happen? How do you know?"

"I received word from my servants that they found him shot to death on a country road. Probably out for a walk, and got mugged by some hoodlums."

"How convenient that one of _your_ servants found him." Meg said threateningly.

Far from the Plaza Hotel, in The Valley of Ashes, another story was unfolding. One that will cross paths with our four protagonists, and end in tragedy.

Jammes' face was swollen still and her nose had a large ugly bandage across it. She sat in her bedroom, looking out the window at her husband who worked on the street below gassing cars up for passerbys.

A long string of pearls was draped around her neck; far more expensive than anything her and Phillippe could ever afford, that's why she kept it hidden. Her poor husband would have questions if he came across the pearls, and unfortunately when Phillippe has questions, he expects answers.

Jammes toyed with the pearls sadly, missing Raoul as she danced the string around her fingers. Little did she know, another woman was missing him as well. Jammes knew her Raoul had a wife, but she didn't know that he now had a widow.

At the Plaza, Meg stormed from the room, furious and washed in grief. Her friends, and Erik, followed her pointlessly.

"Follow us!" Sorelli shouted from Meg's car as she took off out of the hotel garage. Christine and Erik got into their car and followed.

The black and red car sped off into the fresh night, towards death.


	17. God Sees Everything

The black and red car cut through the night air in pursuit of Raoul's widow.

Meg sped up and cleared the Valley of Ashes long before Erik and Christine arrived there. From her window, Jammes observed Meg's little white car whiz past her home and she prayed that Raoul would follow. As she watched the road, Phillippe came into their bedroom without his wife noticing. Because Jammes was caught off-guard, she hadn't the time to take her pearls off. She spun around to face her husband and clutched the pearls.

Phillippe froze and took a small step forward. "Where did you get those Jammes? Did you steal those?" He asked softly.

"No."

"Tell me the truth."

"I didn't steal them!" Jammes yelled. His wife's outburst angered Phillippe and he rushed at her, grabbing the string of pearls in his fist. He started shaking them around wildly. "Where did you get these!?"

Jammes ignored his questions and tried to pull away, but this only served to send Phillippe further into his frenzy.

"Don't lie to me!" He screamed, pushing Jammes' face against the window and trapping her with his arm. "Don't you lie to me! God sees everything!"

Jammes let out a screech and elbowed Phillippe in the face before getting up and running out of the room. She rushed down the stairs and through the garage. She heard a car coming down the road and, in her panic, immediately assumed that it was Raoul.

Screaming for her lover, Jammes ran out into the street with waving arms. The large car coming towards her tried to swerve, but there wasn't enough time or room. Jammes was hit head-on by the car, her body rolled over the windshield like a ramp and smashed into the ashen street. Her entire front had been ripped open.

The car slowed slightly but continued on driving, much to onlookers' dismay.

The owner of a bar across the street ran out into the road to check on Jammes. He had one of his waiters call the police.

Half an hour later, Jammes had been bagged and tagged and was lying on a table in her husband's garage as people shuffled around, paying their respects and offering condolences. Phillippe sat in the threshold of his office door, rocking back and forth and holding the string of pearls to his face. "It's my fault." He muttered repeatedly.

Sorelli, who had left Meg's car in frustration, now walked down the road, trying to hail a cab. Police lights and a crowd of people drew her attention and she shoved through the throng of people to see what was going on. A body bag caught her eye and she unzipped it slightly to see the victim. Sorelli gasped and covered her mouth as a police officer hustled her away from the table.

"Miss do you know her?" He asked.

Sorelli swallowed. "N-no, I don't." She said.

But Sorelli did know Jammes and Phillippe. She knew about Raoul's affair too; because Sorelli knew everything about everyone because gossip spreads, and it always spread back to her.

Phillippe looked up from his lap and saw Sorelli standing in the crowd. He stood up and came at at, gripping her shoulders tightly and yelling at her. "It was a red and black car, it was a red and black car!" He shouted. "Who drives the red and black car!?"

Sorelli shoved the frenzied man off of her and led him to his kitchen where she poured him some much-need whiskey. After downing the drink, Phillippe calmed down. He traced his finger around the rim of the glass and looked up at Sorelli with glassy eyes. "Who drives the red and black car?"

"A fella' named Leroux, Erik Leroux." Sorelli pondered her bitter distrust of Erik and fumed over his influence on Christine, then she added the sentence that put Phillippe de Chagney over the edge. "Something oughta be done about a fella' like that."

Just a few yards away from the garage, stood a billboard, an advertisement for a forgotten oculist named Doctor T.J. Eckleburg.

Those cold eyes brooded over the Valley of Ashes, like the eyes of God, and bore witness to the endless string of tragedies that befell the people living there.


	18. To Bring Down the Chandelier

Erik dropped Christine off in front of his house before putting his car in the garage. He used a sponge to clean the blood off of the cracked windshield and then dumped the bloodied water in a shrub. As he was frantically covering the car in a tarp, Christine entered the garage.

"Erik, I-I-I'm sorry." She fell to her knees. "I'm just so sorry!" Loud sobs began to escape her.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

Christine's head whipped up and she glared at Erik with flaming brown eyes. "I'm not apologizing to _you_! I'm apologizing to the woman I just ran down in _your_ car!"

Erik helped Christine up. "It's not your fault."

Christine shoved Erik with a force that nobody would ever guess could come from such a small body. "Get off of me! I hate you Erik Destler! _I hate you_!"

She ran into the house and past Daroga who was coming out to speak with his master.

"Sir, if I may-"

Erik put up a hand. "No, you may not." Then he pursued Christine.

He checked every room in his enormous house until he found Christine in his private cinema. Instead of starting a conversation, he started a movie instead, one of his favorites. It was a movie reel of Harry Houdini; he was one of the few people Erik looked up to.

Halfway through the movie, Christine stood up and sat next to Erik.

"I've never seen a movie." She said softly.

"Cinema, my dear, is the truest form of magic."

Together they finished the movie and sat in silence after it ended. Christine began to get the shakes, so she pulled a cigarette and lighter out of her clutch and lit up, inhaling the smoke and calming down significantly.

Erik watched her sadly. "You really shouldn't, Christine." He said.

"You aren't in charge of me."

Erik sighed and watched Christine finish her cigarette drearily. When she had finished, they went to Erik's enormous kitchen and sat opposite one another at a large table while servants prepared a breakfast.

"You've been so good to me, Christine Daaé." Erik said, looking at the beautiful woman sitting across from him. "Why?"

Christine folded her hands on the table and looked Erik in the eyes. "Because of my father."

"Pardon?"

"Because once he told me that whenever I feel like criticizing someone, to just remember that not all people have had the advantages I've had."

Erik sniffed and looked down at his lap. Christine's father's advice had plunged into his heart like a shard of ice. If only everyone knew that sentence, had it taught to them as children, then maybe they would've been more accepting of the disfigured little boy from South Dakota so many years ago.

"He seems like a wise man."

"He was, I miss him terribly."

Erik and Christine never ate breakfast, instead they stood up and walked the grounds instead. Keeping one another company in silence.

As the sun rose over the West Egg, it also casted it's warm glow in a far different place, The Valley of Ashes. It was there that Phillippe de Chagney downed his fifth glass of whiskey before pulling open his nightstand drawer and a lifting a gun from it gingerly.

In the East Egg, Meg Giry sat in a bath while her servants packed her car full of suitcases that she intended to take with her back to British Columbia where she would be moving in with her mother.

Sorelli received a phone call upon her arrival home, informing her that she had been invited to dance with an esteemed French ballet company. She immediately wrote and posted her letter of resignation at Populaire and began packing.

When eight in the morning arrived, Christine stopped walking, Erik paused next to her. "Everything okay?" He asked solemnly.

"I have a callback Erik, I need to go to work." Christine replied.

Erik nodded sadly and stood still as he watched her walk away down the garden path. He turned his back on her and began walking in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Erik!" Christine shouted, causing Erik to turn around. "They're a rotten crowd; you're worth the whole damn bunch of them put together."

Erik smiled weakly at Christine and she walked away. For the rest of her life, Christine would be glad that she had said that. It was the last compliment she had ever payed him.

Alone, Erik sat in his garden, watching swans glide across a glassy pond. He didn't see Phillippe de Changey walking up his driveway. He didn't hear the garden gate open and shut. He didn't hear the clicking of a gun being prepared to fire.

Erik heard a blast, felt a sharp pain in his back, then nothingness; eternal nothingness.

Phillippe looked at the limp, lifeless corpse that had once been Erik Leroux. He opened his mouth and pressed the gun's barrel to his pallet, and pulled the trigger once more.

Daroga heard the twin shots and raced out to the garden, finding two dead men bleeding out over the white stones. He phoned the police, then Moncharmin.

Moments later, twenty men arrived along with Armand himself. They cleared the house of its furniture and took it all away, no longer in need of the grand façade.

While he was there, Armand didn't pay his respects to Erik's corpse. He only uttered four words in total.

"Bring down the chandelier."

One of his men cut the golden chain that held the grand fixture and it plummeted to the tile, shattering into a million crystal pieces. It was a grand symbolic gesture, truly befitting of Erik.

After Armand left, the police were permitted to enter. They conducted their investigation swiftly and Phillippe's body was taken to a morgue in the city.

Erik was kept at his home, in a large black coffin that he had purchased for himself years ago in anticipation of the only everlasting thing a human can experience, death.


	19. That City

The media unmasked Erik Leroux, both figuratively and literally.

They pinned everything on him. Moncharmin's scams, the hit and run, the affair with Jammes, all of it. Some snot-nosed investigator even linked Erik to Raoul's death.

Christine wanted to say something, shout in their faces, but the only thing that needed to be said was the one unutterable truth, that none of it was fully true.

The articles said such cruel things about Erik, they claimed that he had slaughtered Raoul in cold blood, for sport. Erik was provoked! Although murder shouldn't have been the end-result, Raoul wasn't in the clear himself.

All the trouble with Jammes' death, killed Christine inside. In death, Erik was taking the blame for a crime _she_ had committed.

After the frenzied reporters had trickled away, Christine lay on the floor next to Erik's coffin. A news team arrived hours after the press had gone, in hopes of getting an exclusive. This infuriated Christine.

"Get out of here!" She screamed at them, mascara running down her tear-stained face. "Get the hell out of here!"

In the days that followed, Christine wrote letters, she called, she implored, but none of the glittering hundreds that had enjoyed Erik's dazzling hospitality, bothered to show up for his funeral service.

Christine went into the city one day, wary of being apart from Erik but knowing that she must leave him at some point. She visited Moncharmin at his musty office. When asked if he would attend the funeral, he sighed falsely and offered his condolences but informed Christine that he had no intention of further association with the name Erik Leroux.

The night before the funeral, rain fell in sheets and thunder cracked. Lightning danced across the sky, lighting up the foyer where Christine slept on the floor.

A knock on the huge oak doors woke her up and she answered it to find a frail, small old man standing in the rain. She ushered him in and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

"Are you lost?" She asked in a motherly tone.

The old man shook his head. "I'm here to see my boy, to apologize."

Christine realized who this man was now; the alcoholic father whom Erik demonized in the stories of his youth.

Mr. Destler approached his son's casket and reached in, gripping Erik's hand. A few days ago, Christine had put a mask on Erik, the one he wore when they first met. Erik's father lifted the mask slowly and held it in a tight grip as he looked upon the face that he had hated so long ago.

"I'm so sorry Erik. I'm so sorry." He said softly. From his coat, Mr. Destler produced a red rose tied with a black ribbon. He placed the flower and the mask on his son's chest.

It was the only flower Erik had received in death.

As the old man began to weep, Christine moved to his side and took his hand gently.

"May I show you something?" Mr. Destler asked.

"Of course."

Erik's father pulled a small leather notebook out of his pocket and opened it up, tilting it so Christine could see its contents.

"It's the journal Erik kept as a boy."

In Erik's sweeping handwriting, were journal entries, poems, stories, miscellaneous thoughts, lyrics, compositions. Beautiful sketches appeared every few pages, most of them were of a gorgeous woman.

"Who is that?" Christine asked after seeing a fifth sketch of the woman.

"His mother, my wife. Erik loved her so much, he adored her. No matter how scared she was or what twisted things she did to him, Erik loved her with all his heart."

A tear slid down Christine's cheek as she thought of Erik's childhood and how things hadn't ever gotten better for the little boy who hoped so hard.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered.

"Don't be. I've heard about you and Erik, Miss Daaé. You gave my son something he had never had before, you loved him."

The last entry of Erik's journal was written just a few weeks before he left home. It was a to-do list.

_Things to do:_   
_By~ Erik Destler_   
_• Finish composition_   
_• Spend at least three hours a day reading or exercising_   
_• Study the stock market_

The final object on the list was underlined and bolded, to establish it's utmost importance.

**_• Be good to parents_ **

Erik's burial took place on a rain slicked hill in a local cemetery. He was placed in an unmarked grave to deter snooping reporters. Halfway through the service that consisted of Christine, Mr. Destler, a gravedigger, and a pastor, two more mourners joined the depressing crowd.

Firmin and Andre.

They payed their respects and thanked Erik for a mystical and spectacular summer. Christine gave the two of them permission to keep all of the books that Moncharmin hadn't taken from Erik's library. She figured Erik would like that idea.

New York had lost it's luster for Christine Daaé.

Her once golden, shimmering mirage now made her sick.

A place that had once seemed so open, a place where her dreams had seemed so tangible, now meant nothing.

Erik believed in love, he believed that love could blind people to his outer hideousness, but what Erik didn't know, was the ugliness had laid in his soul as well.

Christine would have liked to believe that Erik Destler went to Heaven and that his love would never die, but she knew that wasn't true.

We're all stories in the end, and so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.


	20. The Perkins Sanitarium (Epilogue)

"Who was this Erik Leroux?"

"He was the single most hopeful person I have ever met, and I'm ever likely to meet again."

Christine had checked herself into an institution. The Perkins Sanitarium in upstate New York.

It was there that she spilled her sorrows and received treatment for her emotional exhaustion. While she was there, Christine carried out one of Erik's final wishes and quit smoking, for good this time.

Now her therapist questioned her about the one thing that she so little wanted to talk about, the summer of 1922.

"I don't want to talk about this doctor."

"Then write about it."

"Pardon?"

"Write about it. No one need ever read it, you could always burn it."

"But, what would I write about?"

"Anything that comes to mind, a memory, a thought, a place, get it out of your system Miss Daaé."

Four weeks later, Christine finished writing a full, unbiased, account of her traumatic summer. She titled it simply, **"Summer"**.

Before tucking it away forever, she made one final revision. With an ink pen, she scrawled two important words that would define her work forever:

" _The Phantom's_ **Summer** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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